


Are We There Yet?

by MaxWrite



Category: British Actor RPF, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: Angst, Dirty Talk, Drugs, M/M, POV First Person, RPF, Twincest, mentions of Chan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-11
Updated: 2008-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James gets a taste of the life he thinks he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are We There Yet?

I don't generally do dinner parties. It seems far too adult, like we're all supposed to sit around talking about politics or art or something. And don't you need a date for such a thing? Well, I didn't have a date. I had Oliver. Then again, our hosts didn't have dates, either, though they operated very much like a couple. Which made sense, actually, seeing as they were also identical twins who lived together.

And this didn't really feel like a stuffy, adult dinner party, regardless of the wine and the fussy little roasted walnut things that had been served before dinner. It felt like four friends, two sets of brothers, just hanging out. There hadn't been one moment of awkwardness. In fact, it was one of the more relaxed evenings I'd spent with anyone who I considered to be fans of ours. They didn't feel like fans; they felt like friends.

Our hosts had disappeared for a moment to clean up a bit and refill drinks, leaving Oliver and me to talk about them behind their backs in peace.

"So, they seem normal," I whispered. "Don't you think?"

"Kelly's funny," Oliver said, nodding. "He's just so…"

"Happy," I said.

"Exactly! He seems like a genuinely happy person."

"And Evan's sweet, isn't he?"

"He really is."

"He even puts you at ease, which is saying something."

"Oi," Oliver whispered, elbowing me lightly. I grinned and sat back in the modern, red loveseat in the St. Clair's living room. I fingered the neck of my beer bottle and listened to the sounds of laughter and washing up going on in the kitchen.

"It's nice to finally meet a normal set of twins." I said.

"We've met normal twins before."

I shot him a look. "Like who? Jon and Ben with their mother issues? Oh, or Michael and Hannah and their… whatever-the-hell was going on with them?"

"They weren't that bad."

"Better than Evan and Kelly?"

He smiled. "I guess you're right."

"Course I'm right. Only reason we've never had twin friends before is 'cause twins are weird."

"People probably think the same thing about us, you know." He sighed. "So, we finally have twin friends."

"I know. No stupid questions about being twins 'cause they already know. It's a relief, isn't it?" I glanced around the cosy flat. My eyes landed on a picture sitting on the side table on Oliver's side of the loveseat. It was a shot of our hosts outside somewhere. Evan was looking off to the side at something off camera, a smile on his face, his dark hair blowing in the breeze, his long, straight, pointed nose perfectly displayed in profile. And Kelly was hugging him from behind, his arm hooked over Evan's shoulder and across Evan's chest, their faces side-by-side. Kelly's eyes were downcast, his oval face slightly downturned, and he was wearing a soft, contented smile. One of Evan's hands was gripping Kelly's arm.

Oliver frowned. "It's gotten a bit quiet in there."

The water had stopped running and there was no more laughing or conversation coming from the kitchen.

"Hmph," I said. "I'll go see if they need help." I put my beer down on the coaster on the coffee table and stood.

" _You_ want to help out in the kitchen?"

I looked down at him. He was staring up at me incredulously. "Apparently," I said. "Wow, they really are amazing." I padded across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen, drawing closer and closer until I heard something; a quick, wet sort of sound.

I stopped, glanced back at Oliver. He was watching me, but the questioning look on his face told me he was too far away to have heard what I had. I continued toward the kitchen, taking extra care this time to be quiet. I crept up to the entrance and very slowly leaned over to peer inside.

Kelly had his back to the doorway, and if I hadn't known it was Kelly, I could've mistaken his tall, lanky form for Oliver's, except, of course, for the natural brown hair, which neither Oliver, nor I, had at the moment. He had Evan backed into the corner of the countertop. I watched Evan's hands stroke up and down Kelly's back. Most of his face was blocked by Kelly's head, but I could see his eyes; they were closed. Our hosts appeared to be kissing.

No. Our hosts were _definitely_ kissing.

I immediately began to try to rationalise what I was seeing. _They're twins,_ I thought. _They're close._ Certainly, this was something I should understand. Oliver and I were close. Sometimes we even cuddled… among other things. Of course, we generally didn't do it when other people were around, and we never, ever kissed.

I stood there in shock and my mind flashed on snippets of the evening: Evan's hand on Kelly's lower back as Kelly stood at the counter arranging the little roasted walnut hors d'oeuvres on a large plate; Kelly reaching over to sweep Evan's hair out of his eyes during dinner; Evan gazing at Kelly as Kelly animatedly told us a funny story. It had looked as though he was simply drinking in the sight of his brother.

I finally turned and headed back to Oliver, took my seat beside him and took a drink, finishing my beer.

"What's wrong? What'd you see?"

"They're kissing," I hissed.

 _"What?"_

"Shh! I said they're kissing."

"No, they're not." This response was so immediate, so confident, I almost had to stop and consider that perhaps Oliver had followed me to the kitchen and looked in too. I frowned at him.

"Yes. They are."

He scrunched up his face in annoyance and looked away from me. "James, don't be stupid. Why would you say something like that?"

"Because it happened."

"They're perfect. You're just trying to make them seem less so because… because…"

I turned more toward him, watching him expectantly. "I'm waiting."

He sighed heavily. "I don't know, maybe because they made you actually want to do manual labour." He jerked his head at the kitchen as he said this.

I snorted. "Oh, yes, that's plausible."

"Less plausible than you having seen them kissing?"

I was about to retort when I heard soft conversation coming from the kitchen. "Shh! I think they're coming back!"

Kelly emerged first, carrying his wine glass in one hand, which had been refilled with dark red liquid, and my second beer in his other. He smiled at us, causing his cheeks to dimple, and flicked his hair out of his eyes with a sharp little toss of his head. Evan came out behind him, a soft, barely-there smile on his face. He tossed his head in the exact same fashion his brother had, a mere second after Kelly did it.

"Here you go," Kelly said, sweeping over to us and handing the bottle to me. "We didn't keep you waiting too long, did we?"

"No, not at all," Oliver said politely. He and I watched the other twins as they took their seats in the side-by-side matching armchairs across from us.

"So," said Evan, "what were you talking about while we were gone?"

"Us," Kelly guessed. Evan shot him a playful frown, his thick, dark eyebrows knitting together.

"Well, actually–" Oliver began, but I stopped him with a loud clearing of my throat. He was going to say it. He was going to tell them we knew. He ignored me and continued on as though he was chatting about the art on their walls. "While you were in the kitchen, James–"

"Oh, sure, rat me out," I muttered.

"–needed to, um, ask you something, so he was on his way in there… when he thought he saw something…"

Kelly looked at me. I gulped and cowered under the scrutiny of those icy blue eyes. "You saw us kissing," he said. He didn't sound angry or even surprised.

"Er, yes, well, I didn't mean to, I wasn't spying or anything."

"James," he said with a chuckle. "It's okay. We were thinking of telling you anyway." He and Evan looked at each other. Then they reached up onto their armrests and grasped each other's hands. Oliver and I exchanged a glance of our own.

"You look surprised," Evan observed.

"Well, yeah," I said, my tone making it clear that I thought that should be obvious. "You're… _together_."

They both laughed this time. "That's a rather cute way of putting it," said Evan. "We're lovers, James. As I said, we were going to tell you at some point tonight."

"Sometimes we're just bursting to tell people," said Kelly.

"Certain people. People we know we can trust. Like you."

"You think you can trust us?" asked Oliver. "Why? Because we're twins too?"

"Well, there's that, yeah," said Kelly. "But that's not all. There's something different about you. You get it."

"We don't get _that,_ " Oliver said immediately.

Evan canted his head. "Come on. You're telling me you've never–"

"No! That's incest, in case you didn't know."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Well, don't bite their heads off," I said to him under my breath.

He gave me a stern look and whispered, "They think that we do that, too."

I didn't know what to say. Worse, I didn't know how to feel. Something deep inside me was very bothered by how upset Oliver was over this. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I don't think they're there yet," I heard one of the St. Clairs say. I turned back to them and saw Evan sort of shrug at his brother and guessed it was probably Kelly who'd spoken.

"Not where yet?" I asked. Next to me, Oliver fidgeted and sighed. He crossed his legs and arms and seemed to tuck himself into his corner of the loveseat.

"Acceptance," answer Kelly. "Twins, identicals especially, are different, we–"

"I need to use the restroom," Oliver announced suddenly. "Excuse me." He stood and left the room. I sat there feeling terribly small despite my tall frame. I looked apologetically at our hosts.

"It's okay," said Evan. "Some of us just aren't there yet. That's all."

I nodded.

"We should probably just drop it."

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding more.

"When he gets back, let's all just pretend it never came up, yeah?"

"Good idea… But when you say 'some of us aren't there yet'," I began, unable, apparently, to just drop it, "well, you make it sound like all identical twins are – or rather want to be… something more."

"Well, maybe not all of them," Kelly explained, finally letting his brother's hand go and settling back in his chair. He crossed his legs and sipped his wine. "I can't speak for all of them, of course. But you have to admit, as far as relationships go, no other people in the world can be as close as we can be."

"Which is not to say all identicals are as close as they could be," said Evan.

"But no one else has the same potential for the ultimate… you know…" He was moving his free hand, trying to find the words. "Synchronicity, I guess."

"It's like we breathe in time with one another sometimes," said Evan, watching his brother with that same soft admiration I'd seen at dinner.

"But that doesn't have to lead to sex," I pointed out.

"Well, no, it doesn't. But it does sometimes. And–"

He stopped. We all did. Oliver had returned and was looking around at us uncertainly as he came back to his seat. I looked across at Kelly, desperately wanting to know what he had been about to say before Oliver came back. Kelly looked at me too, holding my gaze for a moment.

"We need weed," he suddenly announced.

"None for me, baby, I'm trying to cut down," said Evan. My mind sort of got stuck on that, the casual way in which he'd called his brother 'baby'.

"Since when?" asked Kelly.

"We've smoked almost every weekend for the last two months. Time to cut back."

"Maybe for you. Ol, you in?"

"I don't smoke, but thank you."

"Well, I'm in," I said.

"Excellent!" said Kelly. He stood and went to a shelf against a wall behind the sitting area. He picked up a little wooden jewellery box and came back to his seat. He set it down on the coffee table, opened it up, retrieved his paraphernalia from inside and set to rolling us a joint.

"Well, you guys have fun," said Evan, standing up. "Ol, come with me. I'll show you that stuff I downloaded… No, it's not porn," he added when he saw the look Kelly was giving him.

Oliver smiled, seeming to relax, and stood too. "I'll see you in a bit," he said to me. "Don't smoke too much."

"Yes, Mum." I watched him and Evan disappear down the hall, chatting casually as they went. I looked back at Kelly. He seemed fully engrossed in his task, so I was caught completely off guard when his eyes popped up to look at me. I smiled nervously and looked away.

"Bit uptight, isn't he?"

"Ollie? Yeah, I guess. He's really great, though."

"I know. He's just afraid."

"Of what, do you think?"

Kelly shrugged. "Little bit of everything maybe. Come on. Balcony."

We went out into the cool night air and stepped up to the guardrail, one of us standing on either side of a small, iron table upon which sat an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. I peered down at the city, at the hundreds of pinpoints of light against the inky dark.

"Kinda high up, aren't we?" I said, gripping the railing and forcing myself not to step back.

"You get used to it."

I decided I'd better watch him rather than the view. He lit the joint and took the first couple of drags. He gazed out at the night as he held the smoke in, the breeze making his dark hair flutter around his neck. Once again he caught me off guard by turning those piercing eyes on me without warning.

"And there's nothing wrong with that," he said as he passed me the joint.

"What?"

"What I was going to say before when Oliver walked in. Sometimes it does lead to sex and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Okay," I said uncertainly, my voice strained from holding in smoke. "But according to who?"

"According to us. It's nobody's business."

I exhaled and handed him the joint. "You don't think it's wrong?"

He smiled and looked away, taking another drag.

"What? It's probably even more wrong for identical twins, because all our DNA is the same."

"Exactly, James. You're exactly the same. Same sex and everything. No chance of pregnancy, right?"

I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what to say, so I closed it again.

"I mean, that's the problem with incest, isn't it? Fear of pregnancy. Identicals typically don't have that issue to deal with."

"Well, fine, but still. We're blood relatives. That's still gotta be wrong."

He shrugged. "Maybe." He looked at me out of the corner of his eye as he passed me the joint again, something annoyingly all-knowing in his gaze. "I bet you touched each other in the womb."

I laughed. "Well, that doesn't count."

"Sure it does. That's where it starts. You think what happens in the womb doesn't have a profound effect on what you become once you're on the outside? There are probably things you two do now that started inside your mum."

"First of all, don't say 'inside your mum'." I shuddered a bit. "I'm still trying to come to terms with that whole process."

"What? You were inside her–"

"Shut up!" I laughed, pointing the joint at him. "Don't make me lose that wonderful dinner you made."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. I wouldn't want to be responsible for you soiling our poor doorman anyway."

"Second, I can't believe some accidental touching _in utero_ has anything to do with who we are now."

"Evan and I touched in the womb," he said wistfully, staring out at the city. "We got caught a couple of times on the ultrasound."

"A _couple_ of times?"

"Yeah. We did it a lot, I guess. Which says to me it wasn't accidental at all. Maybe it was an accident the first time, but not after that. We knew what we were doing. And once we were born, well, it was only a matter of time before it started up again."

"How young?"

"Not sure. I have some pretty vivid bathtub memories, I'll tell you that."

I looked away. I could feel my face heating with a slight blush. I had some bathtub memories of my own: reaching over to touch my brother, fingers prodding and gripping, him watching this exploration, curious, just letting it happen, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then Mum with her hushed, urgent voice and quick, but gently hand, separating us, pulling me away from him…

"It was completely innocent. It started before we even knew what it was. How can that not be natural?"

"But you know better now," I pointed out.

"We're cognizant now, if that's what you mean."

"You know what I mean."

"Well, we're aware of what society has to say on the matter. We're aware of certain religious opinions. And, taking all that into consideration, we're now able to choose for ourselves."

"There was no one else you wanted?"

"Well, don't get me wrong, Jay, we do stuff outside of each other. Sometimes we do stuff outside of each other _with_ each other." Those blue laser-beam eyes locked with mine. I guessed that was some kind of invitation, but I'm pants at deciphering things like that. I ignored it, looking out over the city again.

"And you're happy?" I asked.

"Ecstatic. Make no mistake; Evan's and my relationship is the primary one. No one else matters. Being with him this way… it's what I've always wanted."

Those last five words echoed in my head. There was a stark, blunt truth in them that felt like needles poking at my brain. I frowned and fidgeted, as though trying to shake the needles off. "But how can that be? He's your brother. You can't always have wanted your brother."

"Why not? I love him. He's the closest person to me in the whole world."

"But…" I didn't know what to say. He had a point, and yet he didn't. You don't fall in love with your brother no matter how close you are. Full stop. I said this firmly to myself and nodded once as though that made it final. But when I looked back up at Kelly's face, he was regarding me with all the patience of one who knows his path is the right one and is simply waiting for you to catch up. My uncertainty didn't seem to be unnerving him. But his certainty was definitely unnerving me. I frowned at him. "You didn't think Oliver was my date tonight, did you?"

He chuckled. "It had crossed my mind, but no. You're not there yet."

I wanted to protest and say that we definitely never would be, but there was a bigger part of me that was far too curious about his relationship. "Did you ever have trouble admitting what you wanted?" I asked instead.

"Evan had more trouble than I did, but yeah, some. I guess I had the same questions and concerns that you have." He laughed softly. "And Oliver totally reminds me of how Evan used to be; so tightly wound, so proper, so worried."

I hadn't missed the similarities either. Evan's shyer nature, his softer, deeper voice, his watchfulness…

"He'll be a tough nut to crack, but you can do it," Kelly said. "You're the only one who can."

"What? I'm not going to try to change his mind. My love life is just fine, thanks. I don't need that."

"Okay," he said softly, watching me for a moment. "Wanna finish it?" he asked, thrusting what was left of the joint at me. I thought about that for a moment, quietly checking to see just how high I was. Everything seemed to feel sufficiently dream-like, so I declined and watched him finish it instead.

"You and Ollie do stuff now?" he asked.

"What stuff?"

He grinned. "You know."

"Oh… No, not really."

"Not really?" he asked, putting the roach out in the ashtray. He looked back up at me sceptically.

"Well, we have experimented a bit in the past, but we don't do that anymore. We were kids then."

"Not recently then?"

"No." I shook my head and quickly looked away.

"I never used to admit it. Before we made it official, I mean. Every now and then we'd end up in bed together, and the morning after we'd pretend nothing had happened. It was mostly for him, though. I had to pretend because I knew he couldn't face it. I didn't want to upset him, you know?"

I didn't respond. I stared across the landscape, at the pinpoints of light which now seemed to be pulsing at me. My head was swimming. I could see Oliver's body in dim lamplight, I could smell him, I could taste him, I could hear him, his heavy breaths, his clenched and quivering muscles, his mouth… The light pinpoints were throbbing in time with my heartbeat, widening and narrowing at me in rhythm, staring sceptically at me…

"James?"

"Hm?" I looked slowly around at Kelly.

"You okay, babe?" He reached out and touched my back, gently caressing in little circles, his hand moving steadily down until it was just above my bottom.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I breathed.

He took a step closer, his hip touching mine. "Why don't you and Oliver stay the night, hm? We could all play together." His mouth curled into a soft smile as he moved even closer. And then he was kissing me. It took a moment for me to work that out and start kissing him back.

"Whadaya say?" he whispered. The kiss had ended apparently and I blinked at him. We were facing each other now, I noticed. His hands were on my waist.

"Hm? Oh, um, I dunno." I giggled for no reason. "This is what you've been planning all evening, isn't it?"

"What?" he asked innocently.

"This! This little ambush. Evan's in the bedroom working on my brother's defences, isn't he?"

"I doubt it. Evan's never been big on ulterior motives. Then again, we often end up doing the same thing whether we plan to or not. Twin thing. You know how it is."

I nodded. "Mm-hm."

"So? Will you stay?"

"I don't know. I probably shouldn't make that decision without Oliver, so…"

"Well, you're in luck. He's back."

"What?" I looked around at the glass doors that led back inside. Oliver was standing in the living room, hands in his pockets, watching us. His expression seemed blank, but that could've meant anything.

I stepped away from Kelly. He went and opened the door for me. "I'm sorry if I was too forward," he said.

"It's okay, don't worry about it," I said, stumbling past him, into the flat. I looked sheepishly at Oliver as I approached him. "Um, hi."

"Hi," Oliver replied. "Don't let me interrupt."

"No, we were finished. I mean the smoking, not the kissing. Not that we're not finished with that too."

He smiled and shook his head. "So, are you staying the night then?"

"No. Though… he sort of invited both of us to stay." I shrugged at him. "I told him 'no'."

"Well, good. We have to get some sleep tonight, Mum and Dad are coming over tomorrow afternoon, remember?"

"Uh, right. I forgot."

"Did you want us to stay?"

"No," I said immediately. "Why? Do you want to?"

"No. We barely know them, and… well…" He glanced around to make sure we were alone. I followed his gaze around the room and finally _realised_ we were alone. He then leaned in to whisper, "He wants us all to…"

"Sleep together, yeah," I said when Oliver couldn't finish the sentence.

"Shit." He stepped back and exhaled heavily.

"It's just a foursome, Ol, it's not that uncommon."

"It is in my life, I dunno about you."

"Well, maybe that's your problem, ever think about that?"

He raised his eyebrows at me. "I'm sorry?"

"You need to loosen up." I crossed my arms and nearly fell over. His hand shot out to grip my arm.

"You're high."

"No kidding."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I do so! You're so bloody worried about everything, you never just… let go."

He took his hand back and examined my eyes for a moment. "So, you want to stay the night then?"

I sighed. "You're missing the point."

"Clearly. So, what is your point?"

I considered for a moment and then asked, "Would you stay the night if I wanted to?"

"No, I wouldn't," he answered calmly. "I don't think that's appropriate."

I nodded. "I think that's my point."

"What, that I'm concerned about our image? What if people found out?"

"No one's going to find out. They're twins _who are sleeping together_. They know the importance of discretion."

"Not to the same extent, they don't. They're not in the public eye, are they?"

I rolled my eyes and looked away. "Forget it."

"No, James, if you've something to say–"

"I said forget it!" I snapped, glaring at him. His eyes darted off to the side for a moment and he cleared his throat, pocketing his hands again and looking away altogether. I turned to see what he'd been looking at and found our hosts standing at the hallway entrance, watching us. I cursed under my breath.

"It's all right," said Evan, approaching us. "Let me guess: Kelly propositioned you." He glanced back at his brother, who shrugged at him sheepishly.

"No, it's not that," I said. "This–" I glanced at Oliver, who was determinedly not looking at me "–has been coming for a while, I think." I looked at Evan again. "We should go. We had a wonderful time, we should do it again, yeah?"

"Absolutely. You're always welcome." He looked at Oliver, clearly concerned, and he pulled Oliver aside while Kelly approached me.

"I'm sorry, James," he said. "I didn't mean to–"

"No, no, it wasn't you. Honestly, I'm not sure what it was, but I do think this argument was bound to happen eventually. God, he's so uptight."

"Don't push," he said gently, touching my arm. "Just give him time."

"Time to what? We're not like you. We're…"

"What? Normal?" There was no mistaking that hint of scepticism in his voice.

"That's not what I meant," I mumbled. He shook his head.

"I know. I'm sorry. Now _I'm_ pushing. Come on, let's get your shoes."

"We really did have a great time."

"I'm glad. So did we. I hope you'll come back soon."

I wiggled my feet into my shoes, straightened back up and looked at him a bit longingly. "I will," I said. I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the pot. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was just my general horniness. Maybe, in that moment, I just didn't give a shit anymore and felt like showing off in front of my brother. I'm not sure what it was, but I moved toward Kelly and kissed him full on the mouth, cupping his face. He kissed back eagerly, accepting my sloppily-offered tongue and emitting a little moan that sent a surge of pleasure right to my crotch. I knew it was a mistake the moment I did it. His brother was standing right there and I didn't know what rules they had between them about this kind of thing. But when I broke the kiss and glanced timidly over at Evan, he was watching with interest and then, after holding my gaze for a moment, he quickly looked down with a soft, shy smile on his face. Oliver, on the other hand, was another story. His eyes almost immediately flitted away from me and his jaw muscles twitched furiously.

"Give us a call, all right?" Kelly said, gazing at me. "You can come back anytime."

I wanted to kiss him again, taste and feel his wetness again, but I managed to tear myself away. Oliver and I didn't say a word to each other as we drove home.

 

* * *

"You could have stayed," he said as we entered our house. This was the first thing he'd said to me since we'd left the St. Clairs' thirty minutes before. "You clearly wanted to stay. You shouldn't have let me stop you."

"You didn't stop me. Well…" I trailed off, thinking better of what I was about to say. I went to the kitchen, flipped on the light and opened the freezer. He followed me.

"Well what?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just drop it." I pulled out a half-empty ice cream carton and shut the freezer door.

"Tell me," he said. I stopped looking for a clean spoon and looked at him. He was standing by the doorway, hands in pockets again, regarding me with quiet curiosity.

I chewed my lip for a moment and finally said, "I wanted you there too. All right?" I went back to spoon hunting and finally found one. I pulled off the carton's top and left it on the counter.

"Oh," he said. I passed him on my way out. I went into the living room and flopped down on the sofa in the semi-dark, the light from the kitchen providing just enough light to see. He emerged and stared at me from across the room, leaning a shoulder against the wall. "Well, I would've stayed, too. I mean, if you'd really, _really_ wanted me to…" he sighed, "I guess I would've."

"If I really wanted you to," I muttered to myself.

"Something wrong with that?"

I shovelled ice cream into my mouth and considered my answer. "I wanted you to _want_ to be there. And you clearly didn't."

"I just don't think that's a smart move at this point. Anyone could find out. Anyone could find out we were even discussing it. Hell, anyone could find out we spent the evening with a happy couple who just happens to be identical twins. I know they understand that we have to be careful, but we don't know how many people know about their relationship. What if one of their friends finds out we were there and assumes we're a couple too?"

I swallowed a mouthful of Cherry Vanilla. "Is it me?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"If we weren't famous, would you want to be with me?"

"James, come on–"

"No, answer the question."

"It's a ridiculous question, James!" He snapped, pushing away from the wall and frowning at me. "What does that even mean? Are you asking if I'd have a relationship with you?"

I didn't answer. I looked away and kept eating, his words and tone of voice echoing in my head and making my face heat up with shame. I heard him sigh. I even heard him swallow, it was so quiet.

"You're still high," he reasoned.

"That has nothing to do with anything."

"Course it does. You're high and your judgement's impaired and you're saying things you'll regret." He pointed at me. "Those two got to you."

"Who did?"

"Kelly and Evan. They make their life look like some kind of fucking fairytale. All we saw was their quaint little flat and all that cutesy, lovey-dovey twin rubbish."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Twin rubbish? We do that, you know."

"Not to that extent. You didn't see everything, James. You didn't see the secrecy, the isolation, the lies. What do you think they tell their friends?" he asked, gesturing toward the front door as though the St. Clairs were standing on the other side. "What do you think they tell their parents, James?"

"I don't expect they tell them anything," I mumbled.

"Exactly. A lifetime of secrets and lies. Is that what you want?"

I slumped down in the couch, sullen, hugging the ice cream carton to my chest, continuously filling my mouth and swallowing, barely tasting anything.

He sighed when I didn't answer. "Get some sleep, Jay. You'll feel better once your head clears." And at that, he started across the living room, heading for the hallway and the staircase.

"I'm still hungry," I mumbled in protest. "I'm not going to bed yet."

"Well, just don't clean out the entire kitchen before you finally pass out, all right? Goodnight."

I listened to him mount the stairs. I listened to him moving around his bedroom and then the bathroom. I listened to him flush the toilet and brush his teeth. I listened to his bed creak as he settled into it. Then I listened to the silence and the echoing of his voice in my head telling me how ridiculous I was, the disdain in his tone telling me that what Kelly and Evan are, that what we are on occasion, is wrong and filthy and something to be hidden, pushed under the rug and ignored. I finished the rest of the ice cream and considered hauling myself upstairs to my room, but I laid myself down instead and closed my eyes and slipped quickly into sleep.

 

* * *

I dreamt about Oliver all night long, about sex and cuddling and shy little adolescent hands gingerly exploring in the night. Some of what I dreamt of had actually happened, but a lot of it hadn't. And suddenly I was in the bathtub with him again, just little boys playing with toy boats. I watched my small hand reach over to touch him. I watched that hand play innocently between his legs. I watched a shy smile spread across his face as he watched this. I heard him giggle.

"Now, boys," said an echo-y voice from above. It was Mum. "You're supposed to be bathing. Get the soap, James. See? There it is floating over there."

I looked at the soap, but not for long, and I refused to let go of my brother's penis. It seemed a much more entertaining toy, after all, than a bar of soap.

Mum chuckled and lowered herself to her knees beside the tub. She reached in and grabbed the soap and a small cloth and began washing Oliver. She didn't pull my hand away. She let me touch him. Eventually I let him go, but only because he had to stand to be properly cleaned. She'd let me touch him…

I suddenly felt something between my own legs, a wonderful licking sensation. And I was awake. The bathroom dissolved, replaced by the blackness behind my lids. I refused to open my eyes just yet. I tried to roll onto my side, but I ran into a bit of an obstacle, which pushed me right onto my back again. I frowned and grumbled. My grumble quickly turned into a moan, however, because I was receiving the most wonderful blow job from… someone. I finally opened my eyes.

I tried to work out where I was; someone's bedroom decorated in soft creamy tones and light brown wooden furniture. Sunlight was pouring in, diffused by the off-white curtains. I was underneath the most sinfully luxurious duvet ever and whoever was between my legs had one hell of a talented mouth.

 _I must've called someone last night,_ I thought. _Must've gone out after Ollie went to bed. But who? Think, James. Remember her name. They don't like it when you forget._ I concentrated on the swipes of the tongue, the amount of pressure being applied and where, the length of each interval of sucking and licking and, of course, how far into her mouth she could take me. I was trying to discern who it was by her technique, but I was still coming up blank.

Then it hit me: this was the St. Clairs' bedroom. I'd seen it briefly the night before. Therefore my partner wasn't a girl at all. I wondered which twin it was and where the other one had disappeared to.

I reached down to cup the duvet-covered head as it bobbed, closing my eyes again and just enjoying the incredible blow job. I spread my legs a bit more and let out another moan, which seemed to encourage my companion. His sucking became even more enthusiastic, driving me ever faster to the point of no return.

"I'm gonna come," I let him know just in case he didn't want it in his mouth. But he didn't stop. He sucked that much harder, as though trying to draw the liquid out of me with pure suction. He knew exactly what to do, exactly what I liked. He clamped his mouth and tongue around me like a vice and my heart rate climbed quickly, in sync with the mounting tension between my legs. Soon I couldn't stay quiet. I began to emit soft moans on each exhalation, each one coming faster than the last until my body arched and my head pressed back into the pillow. I started coming in his mouth. I could feel him swallowing.

Then the covers came off. He must've pulled them off of us and kicked them away. I couldn't see what had happened, as my eyes were closed and I was lost in pleasure, but I could feel him moving, arms and legs working to slide the heavy blanket off us. I lay there, exposed, cool morning air on my moist skin, getting sucked off in the bright room.

It was over all too soon. As my orgasm began to fade, I could suddenly hear my own voice crying out obscenely. It seemed a violation. Must've been all that white and cream colouring around me; it made the morning, the room itself, seem almost innocent. I quieted down, panting hard, body relaxing, lying there motionless, my face turned to the side, eyes still closed. I felt him release my softening prick, sending little aftershocks through me. I shuddered and grunted at the sensation, and he chuckled softly. He sounded strangely like Oliver, but, though I didn't remember coming back here, I knew for sure he hadn't come with me.

"Find that funny, do you?" I panted. He didn't respond. He laid little kisses on my balls and my inner thighs and then began moving up my body, finally laying himself on top of me, chest to chest, straddling me. I could feel his erection pressing into my crotch.

"That was incredible," I moaned as he began to kiss my neck. I brought my arms up and around his torso, but quickly realised something wasn't right. He smelled… familiar. Not like Kelly or Evan, but more like someone I'd known for much, much longer.

I opened my eyes. "Look at me," I whispered, turning to try and see him. His face was buried in my neck, so all I could see was his dark hair out of the corner of my eye. "Look at me," I repeated.

He raised his face and gazed down at me, smiling softly. "Good morning, sexy," he whispered. His lips were on mine before I had a chance to speak. I don't know what I'd have said if I'd spoken anyway. The phrase "Oliver, what the hell are you doing?" comes to mind. But he was kissing me so deeply, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, sharing my own taste with me. It's hard to break away from a kiss like that. In any case, I was too shocked to do much but lie there anyway.

He finally broke the kiss and went back to gazing at me. "Sleep well?"

I blinked at him. His hair was brown and longer than it should've been. I couldn't even begin to process that just yet. "I don't know."

"Well," he said, sliding off me and onto his side next to me, "I lied when I said 'good morning'. It's actually early afternoon and you have to get up now, you lazy arse."

"I do?"

"Yeah. Mum and Dad are coming over, remember?"

"Oh. Right." I turned my face away and let my eyes sweep across the ceiling to the other side of the unfamiliar room. I frowned. "But if they're coming over, shouldn't we be at home? They're due in–" I checked the clock on the bedside table – "less than ninety minutes."

There was a pause and then, "Are you feeling okay?"

I looked over at him again and finally began to realise how strange it was that his hair was brown. "Why didn't you tell me you were dying it back to brown?"

He pushed himself up on an elbow, watching me with concern. "James, what are you on about? Are…" He narrowed his eyes, scrutinising me, "… are you still high?"

"No!" I sat up quickly, hugging the covers to my lower half. "No, I'm not high. Are _you?_ "

"Course not," he chuckled, sitting up as well. "You know I'm trying to cut back. I am a bit hung over, though." He rubbed his forehead and pushed the covers off himself. "I'm going to get some water. After I re-hydrate, we should start straightening up. You know how Dad nitpicks." He was still mumbling to himself as he stood and headed out of the room, completely naked.

"Well, shouldn't you put something on?" I called as I watched his bare backside leave the room. He ignored me and kept walking. Something wasn't right. Where were the St. Clairs? I got up too, casting about for something to put on. My clothes were nowhere to be seen. I looked over at the closet and hesitated. I thought maybe the other twins might have a dressing gown lying around that I could borrow, but I didn't want to go through their things. Deciding they'd understand seeing as I'd just spent the night, I hurried over and opened the door. My jaw practically hit the cream-coloured carpet.

The closet, a small walk-in, was filled to bursting with Oliver's and my clothes. It was all in there; our shirts, jeans, jackets, shoes. Up on the shelf there was a shoebox I recognised that I knew contained family photos. I wandered dazedly into the closet and reached up for the box. I pulled the lid off and looked inside. There we were, at some family function, leaning in around our smiling relatives, but our hair was brown, and I distinctly remembered it being ginger when this particular photo had been taken. I slapped the lid back on and stood staring at our clothes, dumbfounded.

"James?"

I jumped and spun around, clutching the shoebox to my chest. Oliver was peering in at me, holding a glass of water.

"Uh, hi," I stuttered, lowering the box till it covered my crotch. "You know, um, you're probably right. I probably am still a bit high from last night. I'm… I'm a bit confused." I wasn't still high at all. I felt fine except for the fact that nothing was making any sense. But I figured the only way to get information, while getting Oliver to stop looking at me as though I was a mental patient out on a day pass, was to confirm what he had assumed.

"I'm surprised at you. Your tolerance is usually higher than this. Come." He held a hand out to me. "Put the box down and come on out."

I did as I was told. I put the box back where I'd found it and gingerly took his hand. He guided me back to bed, raising the covers for me so I could slide in. He slid in next to me, setting his water down on the nightstand on his side.

"Lie down," he instructed. I obeyed, lying on my back, pulling the covers up to my shoulders. He leaned over me on his elbow and began caressing my chest. "How much did you and Kelly smoke last night?"

"Er, too much, I guess." I smiled sheepishly. "We, um, we live here?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, James, we live here. Are you having me on?"

"No, I… Ollie, please don't think I'm crazy. I just, um, had a very vivid dream last night, I guess. You and I weren't living here. Kelly and Evan lived here. You and I lived in a house about a half-hour from here."

He smiled. "Well, your subconscious got it backwards. Kelly and Evan live thirty minutes from here."

"Oh… kay. And I'm definitely awake…"

"Of course you're awake." He was frowning with concern now. "James, seriously, what's up? You're worrying me."

"No, please, don't worry." I touched his arm beneath the covers. "I'm just a little out of sorts today. Last night… I just had a dream that was very, very real. It was like I lived a whole different life, and now I've woken up and… here we are… in bed together… and you've got brown hair."

"Well, so do you," he said, giving me a nervous smile.

My hand flew up to my head. "I do?" And that's when I realised that my hair was quite a bit longer than it had been the previous day. My eyes widened. I was about to jump up out of bed again and run to a mirror, but Oliver stopped me.

"Whoa, whoa there. James, you're not well, you stay put."

"But I have to see–"

"Stay put," he repeated more firmly. I stayed, choosing not to argue with that tone of voice. "Okay, I'll humour you. So, you had this amazingly vivid dream and it seemed so real that you've completely forgotten who you really are."

"No, I haven't forgotten who I am. It's just… certain details."

"Like your hair colour?"

"Yeah. You and I are supposed to have ginger hair right now."

He smiled and snorted. "Are you joking? What, I suppose you're going to tell me next that we play Fred and George in _Harry Potter_."

"We do."

He stopped smiling. "James… Kelly and Evan are the actors. _They_ play Fred and George."

"So, we've completely switched places," I said to myself, eyes darting as my mind worked furiously.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous." He sat up, frowning down at me. "Knock it off, will you? We have to clean up this place and make ourselves decent for Mum and Dad. So, quit screwing around and let's get going."

"No, wait, please, just a few more questions."

"I'm losing patience, James," he groaned, rubbing his forehead again.

"I know and I'm sorry, but… Wait. This flat only has one bedroom."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, Mum and Dad know we live together, don't they?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Well, what do they think the sleeping arrangement is?"

His eyes dropped away from my face. "James," he began softly, "I don't know what you're playing at, but I'm going to go take a shower. And when I'm finished, I'd appreciate it if you were acting normally."

He turned away from me, downed the rest of his water, got up and left the room. As soon as I heard the bathroom door close, I got up too. I was about to go back to the closet for something to cover myself with when I noticed a gray bit of cloth, that looked very familiar, hanging over the top of the armoire. I went and gave it a tentative yank and pulled it down. It was a pair of my pyjama pants. I frowned at them, wondering how the hell they'd found their way up there.

I pulled them on and began searching the room. All of Oliver's and my possessions were there. I raced out into the living room/dining room area. It looked the same as it had the night before except for the pictures on the walls; they were of our family and friends, not the St. Clairs'. I checked the kitchen. It did indeed look as though Ollie and I had hosted a little get-together. There were dirty wine glasses and empty beer bottles sitting on the countertop and a cookbook lying open next to them. I wondered which one of us had done the cooking because, as far as I knew, neither one of us knew how. I stood at the counter, staring down at the full colour picture of the very hors d'oeuvres we'd had the night before, and I imagined myself standing in that same spot, arranging the little roasted walnut things on a platter, Oliver coming up behind me with a beer in his hand, wrapping his arm around me, rubbing my belly and pressing himself against me. I found myself smiling, but the smile quickly dissolved and I quickly left the kitchen.

 _He and I are lovers,_ I thought as I wandered back into the bedroom, then out again and around the living room. _Real, no joking around, actual lovers. He swallowed my come. He never swallows my come. Holy mother of God. Mum and Dad will be here in just over an hour. From the sounds of things, they know about Oliver and me. Could that be? How can that be? Do – er,_ did _Kelly and Evan's parents know? I guess so, otherwise why would…_ I stopped in front of the television, suddenly realising that I still hadn't looked at myself yet. I reached up and touched my hair. It was as long as it had been during the filming of _Goblet of Fire._

 _I'm not an actor anymore,_ I thought. _What do I do now?_

I probably had either Kelly or Evan's job, but I'd figure that out later. I raced back into the bedroom and stopped dead in the doorway. There was a large mirror attached to the chest of drawers. I walked slowly up to it, my insides doing horrid little cartwheels. I'm not sure what I was afraid of. That I wouldn't look like myself? That I'd hate my hair? I still looked like me, but my hair was its natural brown colour. Not dyed brown. Real brown. It was a bit messy, since I'd just rolled out of bed, but I could tell the cut was good. It suited me, I thought. It was parted on the side and fell in that perfect accidentally-on-purpose sort of way over my left eye. I tossed it out of the way and continued to stare at myself. I moved closer to the mirror for a moment to examine my eyes, to search them for something.

There was a sudden flash in my mind and a snippet of a memory began to play like a video. I was standing right there before the mirror, wearing exactly what I was wearing, but I could see Oliver on the bed behind me, naked and fully erect and laid out for me, waiting, watching. I smiled at him, one eye hidden behind my hair, as I slowly removed my pyjama bottoms and tossed them, almost violently, away. In my periphery, I saw them sail up and land on top of the armoire. I then turned and went over and crawled onto the bed with him, swung my leg over him and straddled him, looking hungrily down into his eyes.

When Oliver stepped into the room, a towel wrapped round his waist, his hair damp and hanging in his eyes, he stopped in the doorway and watched me. I don't know for how long. I was too lost in a memory. I didn't notice him until he spoke.

"You're really lost, aren't you?"

I jumped, my face snapping around to look at him. I stared at him nervously, trying to figure out if he was going to yell at me again. But he didn't look angry. Not even slightly miffed. He just looked worried now. Maybe a little frightened. Which may have been worse, actually. I nodded at him.

"What happened last night?" he asked, coming toward me, holding his arms out to me. "Did you hurt yourself? Did you hit your head?" He took me in his arms, pressed a kiss to my cheek and squeezed me against himself. I tried not to appear too taken aback by this. His skin was still slightly damp and he smelled of soap.

"I don't think so. I think… Well, I don't know. Maybe I got sucked into an alternate universe." I laughed nervously, but I was only half kidding.

He loosened his grip a bit to look at me. The concern in his eyes nearly broke my heart. "Think you can get through lunch with the parental units? I can call them and cancel."

"No, no, I'm okay. I feel fine. I'm just confused." I tried to smile reassuringly. Truth was I would've loved to just stay in bed with him and talk, get things straight in my head, and… well, mess around a bit if the mood struck him again. But I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to have a chat with our parents. If they knew about our relationship and had accepted it, then that was something I needed to hear about.

"Okay," he said uncertainly. "But if you change your mind… I'm worried about you, James." His voice was so soft now, and I knew he was more than a little concerned.

"Me too," I replied just as softly. He leaned in and kissed me, a soft kiss, our lips just massaging against each other. I boldly slid my tongue into his mouth, in a way testing this strange new territory. He accepted it, licked at it with his own tongue and sucked it a bit. That sent a shiver of pleasure straight through me; my brother was sucking my tongue.

"Think we have time?" he whispered against my mouth.

"What for?"

He pulled back again and stared directly into my eyes as he replied, "For me to fuck you."

I froze. I stopped breathing. Everything stopped except my heart, which was hammering extra hard all of a sudden. I stared into his eyes, in absolute shock at what he'd just said to me.

"James?" he finally said, rubbing my back. "Baby?"

 _He calls me 'baby',_ I thought. He wanted to have sex with me. I wanted to, as well, but what kind of sex was he talking about? Actual… penetration? We'd never done that before. But in this reality/waking dream/hallucination/whatever, I was pretty sure we already had. Perhaps my body was more than used to that by now and I just didn't remember.

I opened my mouth and took a breath, still deciding what to say. My mouth was completely dry. My lower lip trembled and the beginnings of a word or phrase caught in the back of throat, ready to leap forward. It might have been a shaky 'okay', or a confused 'wait… what?', or a much more honest 'holy fucking hell', but I never got the chance to find out what it was; the phone rang and scared me, and I yelped instead.

As I stood there, my hand over my pounding heart, he continued to stare at me, taking a step back, letting his hands fall from my body. Was that concern in his eyes? Confusion? Irritation? I couldn't tell. I'd never seen him look at me like that before. It was like he was looking at a stranger.

The moment broke and time seemed to speed up again. He turned away, walked over to his side of the bed and picked up the cordless from the night stand. I didn't listen in. Instead I turned back to the mirror, staring blankly at my reflection. Was this the face of a man who had sex with his twin brother? Real sex? Like a real couple? My sexily tousled hair had fallen over my eye again. I tossed it away and caught a glimpse of myself mid-toss, my chin up, my long neck exposed. I could see Oliver's tongue moving slowly up the side of it, I could practically feel the moisture, the heat from his breath. I could see him putting the phone down, taking that towel off and coming up behind me. I could see him placing a big hand on the back of my neck and forcing me to lean forward, and me putting my hands on the dresser for support. I saw him gripping my waistband and roughly pushing it down, his foot kicking my legs apart and a look of utter bliss on his face as he slid into me…

"Damn," Oliver said from behind me. He put the phone down and exhaled heavily. My heart was pounding hard as I turned to face him. What I'd just seen in my head was clear as day and felt very real, as though it wasn't a fantasy at all, but rather a memory. A recent one. A wonderful one. I fidgeted and tried not to smile.

"Problem?" I asked.

"That was Mum. They're on the road, got an earlier start than they'd anticipated. We have about forty minutes."

"Oh. Oh, jeez." I cast about, so lost for a moment. "The place doesn't look that bad. There are a couple of glasses in the living room and the kitchen, but–"

"It's okay. Go shower. Takes you longer to get ready than it takes me, after all." He gave me a little smile, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I'll deal with the living room and the kitchen soon as I get dressed. Go on." He went to the closet and began picking out his outfit. He looked back over at me when I didn't seem to be moving. "James, go."

"You look sad," I said softly. "Is it because of me?"

"We don't have time for this."

"We have a minute at least, don't we?"

His shoulders sagged. "I just don't understand why you're doing this now."

I looked at the floor. "I'm not doing it on purpose."

"Well, what is it then? Everything was fine between us. This is what both of us have always wanted. Those two got to you, didn't they?"

I frowned at him. "Who?"

"Kelly and Evan. Specifically Evan." He began pushing hangers around more forcefully than necessary. "He's so uptight."

I raised my eyebrows. " _You're_ calling someone uptight?"

He stopped and shot me a frown. "I think I've improved immensely since we came out."

"Well, I'm sure you have, I just don't… remember." But suddenly I did remember. It was all coming back to me; our life together in this little flat, the slow process of coming out to family and friends. I remembered all the names of the friends we had told, and the names of the ones who still didn't know. I remembered the way Mum had cried when we told her, reminiscing with her and Dad about all the obvious signs she and Dad tried to ignore as Ollie and I grew up, Dad saying to us, so softly it sent a chill down my spine, "We knew. Of course we knew."

Then meeting Kelly and Evan at a convention in London, us getting their autographs, talking shop with them about being twins, and about lots of other things as well, us all having so much in common, them liking us enough, and thinking we were normal enough, to invite us to dinner, saying how happy they were to finally have normal twin friends to hang out with.

After our first dinner with the St. Clairs at a quiet restaurant, and here my memory seemed to split in two; I remembered both going back to the house with Ginger-Haired Oliver and coming back to the flat with this Dark-Haired Oliver. I remember talking with Ginger-Haired Ollie about how witty the St. Clairs were, how much we all had in common, how nice and normal they seemed, how great it was not to have to answer any of the stupid, irritating FAQs that people normally ask twins. I remembered saying goodnight to each other and retiring to our separate rooms. I remembered lying alone in bed that night, thinking about the night's events, and wondering _Was there something a little off about the St. Clairs? Something… a little too close?_

And I remember saying to Dark-Haired Ollie that the St. Clairs seemed really down-to-earth and shy about their celebrity. And I remembered Dark-Haired Ollie and I pulling at each other's clothes and stumbling into our bedroom together. I remembered the incredible tightness gripping my dick as I entered him. I remembered the initial discomfort of letting him inside, and then the unbelievable pleasure as he slid all the way in. I remembered the noises we made, noises I'd heard a hundred times before and yet was completely surprised by as I stood there thinking about them.

And Oliver was right. From what I could recall, he _was_ trying to be less uptight. "I wake up every morning and put my brother's dick in my mouth," he'd said once. "What right do I have to judge anybody else? But I still can't stand it when you squeeze the toothpaste in the middle."

"What's funny?" he suddenly asked. I snapped out of my reverie.

"Nothing. I was just remembering something you said. Ollie, I do remember. I remember this life, I remember everything. But I can also remember our other life. You and I were the actors. Kelly and Evan came to see us at that convention. We had ginger hair, we lived in the house thirty minutes from here. And they were here. They were whatever we are now."

"I think they did get to you, James. They made you self-conscious. 'That's incest, in case you didn't know.'" He made a face as he said this, scrunching up his nose, mocking Evan. "Can you believe he said that? And the way he said it, like he's better than us."

"He's just afraid," I said. "You should know that, you used to _be_ him. Literally and figuratively."

He ignored that last part. "I never would have said that to a person. I never would have made my judgements so obvious. The way he said that, it just made me feel so… so…"

"Dirty," I said.

He looked sad again. "Yeah," he whispered.

"We just scared him, that's all; our frankness, our honesty, how unapologetic we were about all this. It's very possible that he wants exactly what we have and he just can't face it. It's like Kell… It's like _we_ said last night: they're just not there yet."

He regarded me quietly for a moment. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you there yet? You're clearly having doubts, otherwise what's all this amnesia business about?"

"It's not amnesia. I told you I remember everything."

"Plus a whole different life in which you and I aren't together."

"Well, yeah, but–"

"So, that's got to mean something. Our relationship was perfect. Then one awkward conversation with some judgemental prat and suddenly you wake up with fantasies in your head about us not being a couple."

"They're not fantasies. They happened. I was living that life." I stopped, realising how utterly bizarre that sounded. I looked around. Everything seemed solid, real. I'd have pinched myself, but I didn't want to do that in front of him.

"Well, then I feel sorry for you," he said softly. "Because _this_ is the only way things should ever have been. We belong together. I thought you realised that."

"Oliver–"

"Go shower." He went back to searching the closet, stone-faced. "Mum and Dad'll be here in a half-hour. We'll talk more later."

I didn't argue. If our parents were anything like they had been in my former life, me being in pyjamas when they arrived just would not do.

So, I showered, quickly washing until my soapy hand slid down over my crotch. I slowed a bit there and looked down, wrapped my slippery fingers around myself. I still felt like me, looked like me. And yet the penis I was holding had been in my brother's very eager mouth not twenty minutes earlier and he'd been absolutely incredible. I couldn't remember him being that good in my old reality and I started to wonder if it was **a)** natural talent that he'd been afraid to show me or **b)** a lot of practise. If it was the latter, it made me wonder exactly who he'd been practising on. I guessed that I was his primary study buddy for that particular subject, but if Kelly and Evan were any indication of how we lived now, there had been others. Possibly many. I wondered who they were. And how healthy were they? How often did we do that together? How often was he with someone else without me?

Those questions would have to wait. I had parents to fool into believing I hadn't completely lost my mind. Getting dressed was a more difficult affair than I'd anticipated. The clothing I'd noticed on my first journey into the closet was all things I recognised from my old life, but a lot of it was stuff I hadn't seen before. I held up this and that, trying to figure out who certain things belonged to, Ollie or myself. I finally picked out a shirt I thought would be appropriate for a nice lunch with our parents, only to have Oliver walk past saying, "If you borrow that again, I want it hanged up properly afterward. Do not leave it lying on the floor for a week like you did last time." I considered asking him exactly which articles actually belonged to me, but decided I'd stressed him enough for the time being and just wore something I knew was mine.

I half expected our parents to look drastically different somehow, but they didn't. They brought us takeaway fish and chips for lunch… and a homemade pie. I had to stop myself from asking Mum when she'd started baking. Then I thought it might've been Dad who'd baked it, but frankly I couldn't make either of those images look right in my head. I had to stop myself from asking a lot of things lest I give away my very bizarre circumstances. My silence did not go unnoticed.

"James? You're quiet today."

"Hm?" I looked up from my plate in surprise, quickly chewed and swallowed. "Am I?"

We were all sitting round our small dining room table. Mum reached over, trying to feel my head.

"Yes, and you look a bit off," she said as she strained to reach me. I pulled away from her approaching hand.

"I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"We were up a bit late last night," said Oliver. "We had some friends over."

There was a definite shift in the room then. Mum and Dad exchanged a look. It was like someone had mentioned that relative no one's supposed to talk about… Perhaps in this reality we _were_ the relatives no one was supposed to talk about.

"It was fine," Oliver assured them. There was a slight hint of exasperation in his voice that suggested he knew what was coming.

"What friends are these?" asked Dad. "Do we know them?"

"No. Well, sort of. We met them at that sci-fi convention thing we went to. We told you about that. Kelly and Evan."

Mum raised her eyebrows. "The St. Clair twins? You had them here?"

"Sure," Oliver replied, sounding as though we dined with celebrities every night. "I told you we'd all hit it off."

"You didn't tell them, did you?" asked Dad, and I knew instantly what he meant. Suddenly the room was too warm and my palms were all clammy. My eyes shot back over to Oliver's side of the table, as clueless about what he was going to say as our parents were.

"Well, Dad," Oliver began calmly, setting down his fork, "not that it's any of your concern, but yes, we did."

Dad's fork hit his plate with a clatter and he looked away, his jaw muscles tensing.

"Let's hear them out," said Mum softly to Dad. "I'm sure there's a good explanation."

"There better be," Dad rumbled under his breath.

"Yes, there is a good explanation," said Oliver a bit more forcefully. "We have every right to decide who to tell. This is our relationship, not yours."

"But you're part of _our_ family," Dad pointed out. "Did you stop to consider how this will affect us if it gets out?"

"Gets out to whom?"

"The pictures you took with the twins at the convention," said Mum. "You posted those online, didn't you?"

"So, what? Mum, Kelly and Evan are not going to tell anybody about us. They wouldn't do that."

"Oh, you don't know that!" snapped Dad, picking his napkin up off his lap and slapping it down on the table.

"Let's use a little common sense here. They're not going to mention anything about that particular subject if they want to distance themselves from it, now are they?"

"Well, that's probably true," Mum conceded. "Still, you haven't known them for very long. You should've at least waited a while before bringing them into the fold like that."

"We can trust them, Mum." Oliver picked up his fork and started eating again, his brow furrowed. He seemed to be closed for business, shut down right there in front of us. Which meant Mum and Dad were going to turn on me next.

"James, you thought this was a good idea too?" asked Dad.

"Uhhh…" I thought back to the previous night. I'd discovered the St. Clairs kissing in the kitchen. They might not have said anything if we hadn't mentioned what I'd seen. Well, I wasn't about to tell my father that our secret had come out because Oliver and I had been careless enough to get caught snogging. That would only anger him more. "I thought it was time, yeah," I said timidly, pushing my food around.

"Well, what the hell does that mean?"

"It means they're twins too. They understand certain things. And, being in the public eye, they know how important discretion is."

"What's that mean, 'they understand certain things'? Are they shagging each other too?" He sort of wrinkled his nose as he said that.

"No, they're not. But… twins are different. Especially identical twins. You know that."

"Yes, we do know that," said Mum, giving Dad a look, like she was mentally urging him to calm down. He stared back for a moment and then looked down at his plate. Mum turned back to me. "But you don't have to tell every set of twins you meet, do you?"

"We've only told the one set, Mum," I said – er, assumed. I guess I was right because Oliver didn't even flinch. He was watching me, though, with a softness in his eyes that made my stomach do somersaults. "Because we trusted them. We have just as much ability to use good judgement as you and Dad do."

"Well, that remains to be seen," grumbled Dad. "I cannot believe you told someone." He pointed his fork at me. "You're sure they know enough not to say anything to anyone?"

"Yes, Dad, we're sure."

"All right then." He continued eating. "Have you changed the curtains in your bedroom?"

"What?"

Oliver sighed. "We don't need to change our curtains."

"But they're _transparent_ ," said Dad.

"They are not transparent. They're translucent."

"Same thing to me."

"We're on the seventeenth floor."

"They can get pictures of movie stars bathing topless on rooftops, you know."

"Oh, but instead of staring at bare breasted women, they're going to swing by here to snap shots of our hairy arses. Dad, a little common sense please."

I giggled. I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it.

"You're acting very strangely," Dad said to me.

"I am, huh?" I looked to Oliver, and he seemed to concur; he gave me an uncertain little mouth twitch, that I suppose could've been a smile, and then looked away.

"I've never seen you this quiet, even with food in front of you. What exactly did you do last night?"

"Oh, let's not get into that again."

"James–"

"Dad, please. I'm just a little hung over, okay? That's all."

Oliver insisted that we all change the subject. He, Mum and Dad went on chatting while I stayed quiet and faded in and out of their conversation. I wondered if they noticed, or felt it, the way I was looking at them all, my eyes darting from face to face as each spoke, watching closely, looking for signs that this was all a joke or even that the people sitting in front of me weren't actually my parents and brother. When my conspiracy theories started making even me want to laugh, I stopped letting myself think and tuned into their conversation again.

Then lunch was over and I had to sit through more conversation in the living room. Mum got a little too close to the wooden jewellery box and Oliver faked a coughing fit to get her attention away from it. And Dad kept looking at me like he was trying to figure me out. Well, I wasn't too concerned about him figuring me out when even I still hadn't. But when he and Mum finally decided to leave, he pulled me into the bedroom under the guise of complaining more about our window treatment before departing.

"Look at this," he grumbled as he approached the window. "You can see everything."

I came up next to him. "Just let it go. No one's going to see in. If there was another building across from us, then I'd understand your concern, but–"

"James, I didn't come in here to talk about the curtains."

I stopped and looked at him. "Oh?"

"I came in here to talk about you. What is wrong with you today? You're not yourself at all."

"Uh… Dad, I really don't know how to answer that."

He nodded and gazed through our translucent curtains.

"Why are you nodding?" I asked.

"Because I think I get it."

"Get what? I don't even get it."

"Have you talked to Oliver? About how you've been feeling?"

"Er, sort of. I kinda had to, didn't I?" I knew he couldn't possibly know what I was talking about, but I wanted to know what _he_ was talking about.

"And what did he say?"

"He was very curious to know where all this was coming from all of a sudden." I snorted and added under my breath, "Yeah, that's what I'd like to know."

He ignored that last comment. "How long do you intend to go on with this then?"

"Go on with what?"

" _This_. Playing house. Don't you think it's time you both let each other get on with your lives?"

I nodded. "Ah, I see. You think I'm just having doubts too. Got it."

"Well, you are, aren't you?" He sounded almost hopeful. "I know you were still up on your high horse at lunch, talking about how twins are different, but James, there is a palpable distance between you and Ollie today."

I rubbed at the back of my neck. "Yeah, I know."

"Well, that can't continue. If you don't want to be with him, this needs to end. Let him go. You can't lead your brother on like this."

"I'm not leading him on."

"Well, what would you call it? You clearly don't want to be here."

I sighed. "We can't talk about this now."

"You're right." He glanced back, toward the bedroom door. "We might be overheard. I'll call you later on, yeah?" He rubbed my back. I gave him a small smile. I'm not sure why I didn't just tell him to leave it alone. I guess I just needed someone on my side, someone who realised I didn't belong there, even if he didn't really know why.

I walked him out to the door and said goodbye to him and Mum, Oliver at my side. Oliver closed and locked the door behind them, then walked away, toward the bedroom, without looking at me. I followed, wondering what was coming next. When I entered the bedroom, he was unbuttoning his shirt.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Had a chat with Dad, did you?"

I didn't have the energy to be surprised. "You heard us."

"Yeah. Might want to close the door next time you and he want to plan your great escape." He whipped off his shirt and disappeared into the closet.

"I'm not planning anything. He just thinks what you think, that I'm having doubts. And from what I gathered today, he's been hoping for me to change my mind for some time now, so he's probably just seeing what he wants to see."

"Probably, huh? I didn't hear you trying to correct him much."

"Oh, come on! What was I supposed to tell him, that I'd woken up in a completely different life than the one I was living yesterday? Was I really supposed to say that?"

"Starting to sound a little farfetched to you too, eh?"

"God," I said under my breath. I sat on the bed and watched him. He'd pulled on a t-shirt and was putting the button-down shirt he'd been wearing over top of it. He then grabbed a jacket. "Going somewhere?" I asked.

"Out. To see a friend."

"Anybody I know?"

"Yeah. Gareth."

I had no idea who that was. I nodded anyway. "'Kay."

"You knew I was having drinks with him today after lunch," he said as he emerged from the closet, shrugging his jacket on.

"I guess I wasn't invited then?"

"You didn't want to come."

"Oh."

He stood before me, staring down at me, shaking his head. "I don't know what to believe. Sometimes you seem like you really don't have a clue."

"Well, you must be used to that from me by now, yeah?" Well, one of us had to say it. I managed a smile. And to my relief, so did he.

"What are you gonna do?" he asked. "I thought you had plans this afternoon."

"I probably did."

"Check your schedule," he said gently, pointing to a black, leather-bound book on the nightstand on my side of the bed. "You've probably got something in there. Saw you jot something down after Kelly and Evan left last night."

"Oh. All right."

He seemed to hesitate, like he thought there was more to say, but wasn't sure what it was. Or like he thought he shouldn't be leaving me alone.

"I'll be fine. Go. Have fun."

He nodded, but still seemed uncertain. "May I kiss you?"

"Oh." I fidgeted, my stomach fluttering. "Um, sure."

He leaned over me, cupped the back of my head and gave me a soft kiss on the mouth. Our lips caught and held for a long moment. Finally he pulled away, straightened up, said goodbye and left the room. It struck me only after I heard the front door close that he probably didn't normally ask if he could kiss me. I felt a terrible, guilty stab in my chest at what I was putting him through. What if I _was_ making it all up? What if I'd been living this life all along? What if he was right and I was so afraid of a future of hiding from the world and disappointing my father and people saying 'incest' at me as though the word actually tasted bad that I'd literally created this amnesia, created a whole separate life in which we were "normal" twins?

"I'm losing my fucking mind," I mumbled. I turned and launched myself across the bed, reaching an arm toward the nightstand on the opposite side. I grabbed what was apparently my date book and flipped through it, looking for today's date. I made stops along the way, looking at the names of my friends, some of which I recognised, others I didn't. Then I came to two loose scraps of paper tucked into the month of February. The first one was deep red, and written on it in golden ink, in Oliver's scrawl, was this: _"Happy Valentine's Day! Have a great day @ work, my love. Something special will be waiting when U get home. I love U."_ And it was signed with a simple letter "O".

I remembered. I'd been instructed not to come home straight away after work, to stay out for at least an extra half-hour to give Oliver time to get things ready. When I finally arrived with his gift tucked under my arm, a million little candles were flickering all over our flat. He emerged from the kitchen holding two delicate wine glasses and a long-stemmed red rose between his teeth. I remember I laughed, absolutely delighted.

"It's hot in here," I'd said, taking a glass from him and relieving him of the rose as well. "Must be all the candles."

"Or maybe it's you," he'd murmured, stepping so close I could feel his breath. "Happy Valentine's Day, James."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Oliver," I'd said. And we'd kissed and clinked our glasses and sipped our wine. I smelled my rose and then finally noticed that it wasn't alone; lining the hallway that led to our bedroom and the bathroom were more long-stemmed roses, lined up in a row that broke into two separate paths at the hallway's end, one path leading into the bedroom, the other leading into the bathroom.

Seeing where I was looking, he'd said, "We'll be following those paths later. Come. I need to feed you."

He'd made me dinner. Well, he'd ordered in anyway and had arranged everything on our good dishes. We ate by candlelight and exchanged gifts. Afterward we took our wine and he led me down the hall, took the rose path that went left into our bedroom. More candles. I commented on what a fire hazard Valentine's Day is. He chuckled and gazed at me, his eyes all crinkled up with love.

I found myself sitting up on the bed, staring down at the little red note with the golden letters, my mouth hanging open in near disbelief at what my mind was remembering. Earlier, when my brain had been slammed with every memory I'd ever formed in this reality since birth, I hadn't been able to fully appreciate what exactly was going on between me and Oliver. Now, focused on one particular memory, I could see it clearly; the way he openly appreciated my body, burying his nose in my belly and blatantly smelling me, the way his nerves seemed to light up just from my scent, from the feel of my skin, the way I seemed to _know_ that his nerves were lighting up. I could literally feel it. His erection would twitch with need, and so would mine, like they were tethered to each other, like our bodies were speaking to each other, and I realised that our bodies always did. His arousal, his joy, a tug or nervousness in his gut; these things were nothing new to me.

After we made love, he drew us a bubble bath. We washed each other and sipped wine and talked. He had to leave the tub for a moment to grab the bubble bath bottle off the countertop, and my eyes automatically went to his backside, watched a small clump of frothy bubbles slide down his wet left cheek and onto the back of his thigh. His thigh and butt muscles flexed and there was a subsequent tug at my groin. And directly following that little tug, he glanced over his shoulder at me and gave me an intimate smile. I didn't think that was a coincidence. It was like our very cells _knew_ each other.

I sat there, staring off at nothing, realising all this for what seemed like the first time. I wondered how that was possible, how I'd never noticed any of this before. It made perfect sense that I should feel my brother's emotions in some form or another. So much sense, in fact, that I'd never questioned it until now.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and looked back down at my date book. I didn't bother looking at the second note on that page. If we exchanged notes for special occasions, then the second one was probably for our birthday, just a week and a half after Valentine's Day. I didn't need to relive that night too. I got the gist: after the barbeque at our parents', then drinks with our friends, there I was, back here at our flat, on the bed, on my back, spread open for him. And there he was, hovering over me, covered in sweat, grunting and groaning his pleasure…

I had to shake my head again. I quickly turned the page to today's date, ignoring anything else that might distract me, and I finally found it. I had, indeed, pencilled something in for today. I was to give Kelly St. Clair a call.

Had I written that after he and Evan had left the night before? Why was I calling so soon? A little desperate, if you ask me. But what else could I do? I couldn't just sit there alone all day. I picked up the cordless and dialled the St. Clairs' – formerly our – number.

"Hello?"

I couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice, and I realised that it hadn't all been the alcohol and pot the night before; I genuinely liked the guy. I smiled even more when I heard the smile in his voice.

I invited him over. Just him. If his brother was now as closed off as Oliver had been in my former reality, then I didn't need to speak to him. Luckily Evan was off doing other things.

Before he arrived I wandered into the living room to the little wooden box on the shelf. I opened it up and found what looked like the St. Clairs' stash, but of course it was ours now. I proceeded to roll up a fat one. We might need it, I reasoned. I intended to talk to Kelly about what had been going on inside me since waking that afternoon, so if anything about my reality jumping slipped out, I thought it best that he be a little out of it.

"I'm having doubts," I blurted out. We were lounging in a couple of folding chairs on the balcony, passing the joint back and forth, beers at our sides.

"'Bout what?"

"This. Oliver and me. I woke up this morning and… nothing felt right."

"Really? Wow, and here I thought you two were the perfect couple."

I smiled. I had thought that about them.

"Everything seemed so ideal."

"Yeah, well, I guess it is for the most part. I dunno what's up with me today. I woke up and he was… sucking me off, you know, and I just had to ask myself, 'James, what are you doing here?'"

"You were so convincing last night. I have to admit I'm disappointed."

I looked over at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean you two were like my role models in a way." He started picking at something on his jeans and seemed to grow a bit sheepish. "I didn't think something like your relationship could exist in reality."

I nodded. I understood, of course. I had been amazed and encouraged by the St. Clairs.

"I wanted to stay last night," he went on. "I wish I had."

"Even without Oliver – I mean without Evan?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Ideally I would've wanted him there too. He's just so…" He shook his head. "You know, when we got home, he gave me this whole big lecture about how we have to be careful because of who we are and all that. He doesn't trust you two, thinks it's a bad idea to even see you anymore."

That stung a bit, even though I'd known it was coming. "Well, he's just scared."

"He's just a pain in the arse. He never lets go, he never lets himself… just _be,_ you know?"

"Oh, that's not true. He relaxes with you, doesn't he?"

"I guess."

We both fell silent and I could practically hear the wheels in Kelly's head spinning. He was going over the events of the night before, the argument between him and Evan after they'd left. I figured he must be since that's what I would've been doing.

"What _really_ gets me," he continued, staring off into the bright, blue sky, "is his attitude after we found out about you. Like he's better than you. Like he's better than _me_ even, because I don't have a problem with it like he does. And the way he…"

"What?" I urged.

He shook his head. This was a very different Kelly from the one I remembered. His blue eyes seemed darker today, as did the circles around them. He looked sad and worried. Had I looked like that? Also, his short ginger hair didn't quite suit him. It seemed to be washing him out, making him look a bit ill. "The way he rejected me last night," he said. "Said it was ridiculous. It was like a slap in the face."

I winced, remembering that. I looked away, into the sky too, my brow furrowing. "I'm sorry, Kelly," I said softly.

"What for?"

"For bringing that down on you." Not that I blamed the St. Clairs for Oliver's and my argument, but I somehow felt very responsible for theirs.

"It wasn't anything you did. Hey, if I hadn't been spying on you two in the kitchen last night, the truth might never have come out."

"Nah, we would've told you eventually." I looked over at him again. He was still staring off into the sky. "Do you really want it?" I asked.

He looked at me. "What?"

"Evan. If you could be with him the way I'm with Oliver, would you?"

He took a deep breath. "I don't know. I think about it sometimes. But what if it completely screwed up our relationship, you know?"

I nodded.

"Then again," he went on, "I think about the prospect of finding someone, and it all seems so daunting. I don't even know what my type is. I've never really clicked with anyone romantically."

I nodded. "Yeah, I get that."

"Really? Is that why you… I mean, I don't mean to imply that I think you settled or anything…"

"It's all right. No, I don't think either of us settled. I think we were just right for each other. Maybe the reason you've never felt that connection with anyone else is because you've already got it."

I'd like to say that what I'd just said to him had encouraged him, but it didn't seem that way. He looked even more uncertain and sad.

"I don't know that, of course," I added. "That might just have been Ollie and me."

"No, I think you have a point. It's just that if that's true, and he never comes around…" He trailed off, but I knew where he was going with that. If Evan never came around, where did that leave Kelly? I'd never figured that one out for myself. More often than not, I'd simply tried not to think about it.

"I don't know," was all I could say to him. I felt terrible for him. I put the burnt-out nub that was left of our joint into the ashtray and stood with a groan. "Come on. Let's go inside."

He stood and followed me. We left our shoes at the balcony door and went and sat on the loveseat.

"I suppose I should be relieved, actually," he said. "That you're having doubts, I mean."

"How come?"

"Proves you're only human and not the perfect superhuman relationship machine I'd pegged you as."

I laughed. "No, we're definitely not that." My laughter subsided and I gazed at him quietly for a while, studying him. He glanced away shyly, but looked right back a moment later, as though checking my eyes for something.

"What?" I asked. I had an inkling of what he was seeing, though. I was sitting there wondering what it might've been like if I'd chosen to stay with him and Evan last night. My interest must've been showing.

"Nothing. You're just… very cute, that's all." He looked down at his lap and fidgeted.

"Why didn't you stay last night?" I asked.

"I dunno. I wanted to. But… well, Evan…"

I nodded. "I understand."

"You really do, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course."

"You don't think I'm a tease?" he asked with a nervous smile.

"Kelly, he's your other half. There's no need to explain."

He stared at me in silence and I stared back. He was fighting his own nerves, forcing himself to look, as though he wanted me to look into him, as though there was something inside him he wanted me to see.

I essentially _was_ him, I reminded myself. I had been the day before, anyway. In this situation, if our roles were reversed, what would I want to convey to him? I went over everything in my mind, everything we'd just been saying. I'd wanted to stay with him the night before. I'd only left because I hadn't wanted to be there without Oliver. And if I'd returned today and told Kelly that I wished I could've stayed, I too would've been afraid of being seen as a tease and pissing him off.

But if he'd understood, if he'd let me know that it was all okay, if he'd made me feel safe and accepted, and I was already attracted to him, what would I be feeling towards him right now?

I might want to kiss him. And at that point it might not matter that Oliver wasn't there with me. Yup. That's what he was trying to tell me with that look. He was too nervous to make a move himself. He was hoping I would.

I slid closer, laid my arm along the back of the loveseat behind him. We were nearly nose to nose. He swallowed and licked his lips. "Uh, I don't mean to…" he began shakily. "I mean, I know I probably shouldn't… 'cause Oliver's not here and all and–"

"Shh. It's okay. We have an understanding, Ollie and I." The words came out so easily and I knew they were true. Evan and Kelly had had an open relationship. He nodded at me and our faces drew nearer and we kissed.

And it was nice. As nice as I recall it had been kissing him the first time. Actually, probably nicer, because I was not currently drunk or too high. But… something wasn't quite right.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He tilted his head to his right, and I did the same, deepening our kiss. My tongue slid into his mouth just as my eyes landed on the photograph sitting on the side table. It was exactly the same as it had been the night before except it was Oliver, not Evan, who was looking off to the right and I, rather than Kelly, who was snuggling up to him from behind.

I stopped kissing him. I sat there for a moment in silence, looking down, trying to figure out what to say to him. _He's going to think_ I'm _a tease now,_ I thought. But I had to say something. I had to tell him I couldn't go through with it.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he spoke first: "You're having second thoughts, aren't you?"

I exhaled with relief. "Uh, yeah. I am. I'm so sorry."

He waved a hand and shook his head. "No, no, it's fine. Really. I shouldn't have–"

"You didn't do anything wrong. I thought I could, and I really do want to, but–"

"You love him. You don't have to explain." He shrugged. "I… I love Evan. I'm _in_ love with him." He nodded to himself as though trying to convince himself that saying that out loud was okay. "I'd only be using you as a substitute for him."

"Yeah. Might've been nice, though," I said with a grin.

He looked at me and smiled. "I know it would've been."

"But it wouldn't have been right."

He shook his head sadly.

After Kelly left, I stood at the front door, staring around at my quiet flat. Oliver's and my flat. I smiled to myself. We'd shared a house in my former life, but this was different. There was only one bedroom here. Here, we were truly a We. Here, we were the perfect couple that at least one person looked up to. We were an Example. A good one. And it wasn't a façade. At least it hadn't been until today.

And what had I gone and done? I'd woken up and questioned everything, probably frightened Oliver to death. I did not have amnesia. I remembered everything, I remembered our life together and it was beautiful. It was what I'd been dreaming of. _Why_ was I questioning it?

Well, no more. I was finished fucking this up.

 

* * *

I checked the time. It had been two hours since Oliver had left. I wondered when he was coming back. I went searching for my mobile and found it in the bedroom, sitting next to my date book on the nightstand. And someone had called me while I'd been on the balcony with Kelly. Oliver had called and left a message.

He wouldn't be home until around dinnertime and he'd bring home some takeaway. Perfect. I grabbed my jacket, my wallet and keys and left the flat.

There was no memory lapse when I encountered a neighbour in the lift on my way downstairs. I remembered her name and chatted with her normally. I had no problem finding my car in the parking garage. I didn't question where I was going as I drove out to the local liquor store, bakery and flower shop. I walked briskly back to my car with bottle of wine in a bag, a white bakery box and a dozen white roses in the other, and I couldn't help but smile a little. The wind in my hair felt nice. It was good to have longer hair again, to feel it on the back of my neck. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it.

I felt good. Incredibly good. My man (I grinned like mad as I thought those words) was bringing me food and I'd be waiting for him with wine and flowers and a smile, ready to jump head-first into our life together. Yep. I was ready. I was _there_.

When I got home, I turned on music and gave our flat a proper cleaning while I waited for him to return. Then I showered and stood, slightly damp and wearing my dressing gown, in our closet trying to choose an outfit. I was no longer confused about what belonged to whom; my memory of this life was becoming more and more complete as I became more comfortable here.

I heard the front door open and my heart leapt. I hadn't figured out what to wear, but I suddenly realised that my dressing gown, my freshly cleansed, naked self beneath it, was just perfect. I grinned. I pulled one of the roses from inside the cellophane, carefully placed it between my teeth, avoiding the thorns, and stepped out into the hall. I leaned one shoulder against the wall and let the opposite shoulder of my dressing gown slip down, the gown falling completely open, my body fully on display. He was at the door, taking off his jacket, and he looked up at me and stopped, his eyes travelling down and then back up, his mouth hanging open slightly. I wiggled my eyebrows.

"What's all this?" he asked, a smile spreading across his face. He didn't take his eyes off me as he shifted the takeaway bag from one arm to the other and slipped his now free arm out of his jacket, catching it in his hand before it fell. He reached up to hang it on our coat rack, but he missed it, the jacket falling to the floor as he stared at me and began to approach.

I removed the rose from my mouth and trailed the smooth petals down my neck and chest. I shrugged. "I was just waiting for you."

"Naked with a rose in your mouth?"

"What? Don't I always?"

He laughed and shook his head. "No." He finally reached me, stood close, looked down at my body and then nuzzled my face. "You look nice," he murmured.

"Thank you," I whispered. I stepped closer, right up against him. I could feel the heat from the takeaway back at my side. I closed my eyes and nuzzled back, brushing my lips and nose against his face and already starting to breathe a bit harder. I nudged my knee between his legs. "Like what you see, do you?"

"Mm-hm." He quickly crouched down and set the bag on the floor. He straightened up again and took me by the waist and pulled me against himself. He was getting hard and so was I. I reached down between us and slid my hand onto the bulge at his crotch. He let out a soft sigh and asked, "What's gotten into you?"

I grinned. "Well, I'm hoping you'll get into me, actually."

"Oh, Jamie," he breathed, wrapped his arms tightly around me. The rose slipped from my hand and I draped my arms around his neck. And I kissed him. I relished in the freedom of this, of being able to just be blatantly sexual with him, put my arms around him and stick my tongue down his throat. I kissed him in the most obscene way, wetly, sloppily, loudly, tilting my head all the way to the side, my hands cupping the side and back of his head. He turned us around and pressed me back against the wall, pressing his hardness against me, kissing back just as hungrily.

This was my life now. This was real. I wasn't waking up.

I stopped kissing him and looked at him with sleepy, lusty eyes. "You're my man," I whispered.

The look in his eyes matched mine and his mouth hung open slightly, his lips swollen from my assault on them, his hot breath wafting into my own mouth. He nodded. "Always have been."

I smiled, couldn't help it. I wriggled out of my robe, pushed away from the wall for a second to let it drop to the floor. And I stood there, naked against him, gazing into his eyes, and I whispered, "Use me."

His pupils grew even larger than they already were and a low rumble rose up from his throat. He stepped back a bit, took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom where he pushed me down on the bed. I lay there on my back, propped up on my elbows, my legs spread, and I watched him. His eyes were on my body as he hastily took off his button-down shirt, pulled off his t-shirt and tore open his jeans. He stepped out of them, no underwear underneath, and I took in that body that I'd seen loads of times, but almost never like this. Our trysts in my old life had all been so shadowy and rushed. Here, our bedroom light was on and he was standing before me, his long, lean body proudly displayed, his full erection bouncing at me as he discarded his clothes.

I crawled toward him with a grin on my face, my eyes focused on his lower abdomen. I sat before him and raised a hand to touch him, but I stopped, uncertainty seeping in. I looked up at him, my hand poised in the air.

He was looking down at me and was giving me a soft smile. He reached out and stroked my hair and murmured, "What's the matter, baby?"

That voice, those words; I felt weak. My head fell back a bit, his hand cradling it at the back, and my hand dropped forward and rested on his hip. It was as if all my muscles had defected.

"Nothing," I whispered. "I just… wasn't sure for a moment."

"How come?"

I shrugged. "It's been a strange day."

"I know." His other hand came forward to caress my cheek and I think I let out a little sigh. A second later, I saw his cock twitch. I looked down at it and finally let my hand slide up to touch it. I gently glided my fingers up the shaft, part of me remembering what this was like, seeing his cock this hard, this close up, the other half just mesmerised by it, unaccustomed to being able to examine him like this. I think he sensed my fascination, because he lowered his hand from my cheek and just let me explore him while continuing to pet my hair with his other hand.

I shifted a bit to get more comfortable. I wrapped my fingers around the thick length of him, squeezing a bit, feeling the warm firmness of him. My fingers reached the head and I gently pinched it between my thumb and forefinger. The slit glistened at me.

"God, we're huge," I said. I'd said it mostly to myself. I'd almost forgotten that he could actually hear me, so I was a little surprised when he started laughing. I looked up at him and found he'd tossed his head back and had rested a hand on his stomach. When his giggles subsided and he looked back down at me, he had a big grin on his face. He petted my hair.

"You're adorable, you know," he said. I gave him a huge dopey smile. I was in love. So stupidly in love. I leaned forward and pressed my pursed lips to the head of his cock and I watched as his eyelids drooped and his smile softened. He let out a soft breath and whispered, "Fuck, you're pretty when you do that."

"Oh, yeah?" I grinned mischievously, leaned in and began laying more little kisses, planting them all along his shaft, on the sides, the top, the underside, moving steadily up until I was nuzzling into the hair at his crotch. I stopped there for a moment to inhale deeply, the scent of him making me feel lightheaded, and then I continued on up, kissing the slight pudge of his lower belly, up the light fur trail leading to his bellybutton.

I heard him let out a soft little grumble and felt him grip my hair in his fist, and suddenly both his hands were cupping my face and he was leaning down and kissing me and pushing me further up on the bed and down onto my back. He settled in between my legs, kissing me roughly, so hard in fact that my mouth was forced wide open. He took my hands in his and pinned them to the bed above my head. I think an extra surge of blood went straight to my cock. This was an Oliver I'd never seen before, but a moment later the memory of this forceful, assertive, dominant man came rushing into my brain. He took me like this all the time. And I loved it.

"You're mine," he said against my mouth, squeezing my hands so tight I wondered for a moment if he was doing damage. "And don't you ever forget that again."

I felt wonderfully helpless beneath him and I squirmed and strained against his weight. I gave him a lopsided grin. "Enough talking, yeah?"

He returned my grin. "Oh, cocky little thing, aren't you? Well…" He released my hands, got up on his knees, took hold of my arms hard and flipped me over. He dropped himself down onto my back and put his mouth to my ear. "Let's see how cocky you are when I'm done with you." He moved his mouth down and bit my shoulder. I groaned and tried to wrench my shoulder away, but he soon moved on, kissing his way down my back. He got down between my legs and buried his face in me, parted my cheeks with his thumbs and swiped his tongue firmly over my hole.

 _My brother… is eating… my arse,_ I thought with a smile. I relaxed, pushing back into his face, listening to the hungry noises coming from him, loving the way his deep voice vibrated against my skin as he hummed. I even felt his nose rub across my hole a few times. He spread me wide, his fingers bruising my skin, and soon he was pushing his tongue into me, as far as he could make it go. _Open up for him,_ I thought, urging my body to do so. _Open up for him because you're his. You belong to him._ I squirmed impatiently, trying to will my muscles to relax for him.

By the time he'd managed to slip three lubed-up fingers inside me, my hips were rocking, I was clutching at the sheets and I was making the most wanton noises. He finally removed his fingers, grabbed my hair and yanked my head back.

"Ready for me?" he growled in my ear.

"Yes," I gasped.

"Yeah?" He straddled me and rubbed his cock slowly up and down against my arse, still gripping my hair. "Hm, should I make you beg me for it?"

"Ollie, please…" I whined.

"God, I love to hear you beg."

Now it was my turn to growl as I managed to twist around a bit, reach back and up and take hold of his arm. I looked up at him sidelong and said in a dangerously low voice, " _Now_. Fuck – me – _now_."

"Oh god, James," he moaned. He leaned down and kissed me briefly, but deeply, and then released my hair and sat up to quickly lubricated himself. I got up on my knees and watched us in the dresser mirror. This was the first time since arriving in this reality that I had trouble recognising myself. My tousled hair had fallen over my left eye again and the eye I could see had a hunger in it I'd never seen before. It was clouded with pure lust and my lips were swollen. And when my brother crawled up behind me, between my legs, wrapped his arms around my waist and began licking my neck, I watched myself arch my back and my neck, pushing my arse back against him, my eyes growing even sleepier, my mouth hanging open even more as my jaw went slack. One of his hands disappeared behind me and I could feel him sliding his prick between my cheeks. His other hand lay flat on my belly, gripping me there. I laid my hand on top of it and reached up and back with my other hand to caress his face, which was over my shoulder so he could watch us in the mirror too.

"Tell me what you are," he whispered as he nudged at my hole.

I didn't even have to think about the answer. I knew it. It was all there in my head and the words flowed from my mouth as easily as air. "I'm your little cock whore."

"Yes, you are. You have been since the day we were born."

"Since the day we were conceived," I corrected him, turning my face and looking back at him. "It's what I was made for." And I groaned as he really began to push inside me. I remembered this, the feeling of being breached this way. I was used to it. This was our love.

"That's right." He let go of himself and place his other hand on my belly as well. "You were made to be my little slut, weren't you?"

He pulled out a bit and then pushed back in, a little further this time. I arched my neck more and breathed, "Yes."

"And you're never going to doubt that again, are you?"

He pushed in even further, his body almost flush with mine, and I moaned loudly. "Fuck, no. Oh god, no."

He began slow, pushing in and pulling out at a steady, gentle pace. I looked back at the mirror, at us. He was sucking my neck. I still had my arm up, my hand caressing the side of his face. And I still barely recognised myself standing there on my widely-spread knees, my pelvis pushed back against him, my cock flushed and hard, and my eyes… my god, my eyes.

He picked up the pace a bit and dragged his mouth up my neck to my ear. I could see the corner of his upper lip curling. "Say it, Jamie. Tell me what you are."

"I'm your slut," I growled. "I'm your filthy fucking come whore."

The moans that came out of him sounded just as desperate and helpless as mine, sounds I'd never heard either of us make in my old reality, and he fucked me harder and my eyes rolled up into my head.

I had to lean forward and brace myself on the footboard of the bed. I used one hand for that, while the other went to my cock and began stroking. And I watched us in the mirror, the way I was leaning forward, my arse presented to him, the way my knees were wide apart, the way my hair bounced as he pounded me; and Oliver, the way he watched me hungrily, the way his hips moved back and forth, the way his big hands looked as they gripped my waist.

It was me being fucked by my twin. It was sweaty and dirty and wonderful. It was so right, I could've come from the sight of us.

"I'm gonna come," he whispered. "Do you want it, Jamie?"

"Give it to me," I growled, fisting my cock faster. "I'm your filthy, nasty little come whore and I want it now."

"Fuck, James…" He closed his eyes and his head rolled back. He was whimpering pitifully as his prick jerked inside me and I felt his liquid spurt into me. I let out an almost involuntary sigh and I lowered my head until it hung down between my shoulders and started to come as well.

He leaned down, pressed his front to my back, wrapped an arm around me and laid his hand on my chest. We shuddered together until our bodies finally began to relax and Oliver carefully brought us both down to lie on our sides, spooned together, catching our breath. I felt him go soft and finally slip out of me. He reached for my hand, took it and brought it up to his mouth and began licking my come from my fingers. I smiled.

"Now who's the come whore?" I said.

He let out a low, soft laugh as he licked my hand completely clean, sucking the stickiness from everywhere, including between my fingers, and then wrapped his arm around me again, still clutching my hand. "What got into you while I was gone, eh?"

"Dunno," I murmured, lacing my wet fingers with his and twisting around a bit so I could look back at him. "I just missed you, I guess."

He gave me a weak, sated smile. "So… you're back? Completely?"

I nodded. "Yes. This is my life. And I love it. And I love you."

He leaned in and kissed me, just gently pressed his mouth to mine. When he put his head back down, he whispered, "I love you too."

"We're really lucky, aren't we? To be able to have this with each other."

"I think so, yeah."

I nodded. "I promise I'll never question that again."

"Were you questioning it? Have you let go of this whole alternate reality thing?"

No, I hadn't. Not entirely. I was still fairly certain that I'd been dropped into this life in the middle of the night. I could still remember everything about my old life, but all my senses were telling me that this was real and always had been. I could touch this world, smell it and taste it, which was more than I could currently say for my old life. I could remember that, even hear it, but it was just a memory now. It might as well have been a dream, and maybe it had been.

And what did that matter when I had my brother wrapped around me and his come sitting inside me?

"I suppose I was… a bit shaken by Evan's reaction to us," I said. "Maybe."

Oliver squeezed me and cuddled me. "I know, baby. He got to me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Don't be mad at him, okay? He's just scared."

Oliver sighed. "I'll try." He frowned suddenly and twisted around to look at something behind us. "You bought a whole bouquet of flowers?"

I grinned, remembering the remaining nineteen roses which were lying forgotten in a corner of the bed. "Oh, yeah. I got them for you."

"Thank you, baby." He cuddled me more and I nestled back against him, so content I could've burst with joy. "Hey, you hungry?"

"Mm-hm."

He pulled away and sat up and scooted off the bed. He walked naked to the door and stepped out to get our dinner from the hallway floor. I sat up and watched him.

"Oh, sweety?" I said, the pet name slipping easily off my tongue. "I brought home some wine and dessert as well. They're in the fridge, can you grab them?"

He poked his head back in and smiled at me. "You were busy today."

We ate in bed. We drank wine and fed each other cake. I dragged my finger along the top of the cake, gathering up some of the chocolate icing, and I reached over and wiped it on the head of his dick. His laughed at that, but I wasn't laughing. I was eyeing him lustily.

"And what do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Whatever I want," I said. I crawled up between his legs, pushed them apart and settled there, the thrill of being able to do this with him making me feel a bit giddy. I took his soft cock in my hand and lick at the chocolate-covered head. He leaned back on one hand, bringing his other hand forward to cradle the back of my head, and stroked my hair as I licked him back to full erectness. I traced the shape of him with my tongue without worrying about appearing to enjoy things too much. I moaned when I wanted to and really showed off my apparently amazing blow job skills, and it didn't freak him out.

When I began licking his balls, he sighed and flopped onto his back and bent his knees to spread his legs even wider for me.

"God, you are _so_ good at that," he moaned.

"Mmph," I grunted at him.

"Oh, by the way," he said in the same soft, moany way, "Gareth says 'hi'."

"Mmph." I even remembered who that was, but only vaguely. We'd met him online and didn't know him very well yet.

The phone rang and I frowned and grumbled around Oliver's prick, but I didn't stop sucking him as he answered.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Dad."

I stepped up my efforts, sucking him faster. He grinned down at me and had to cover the phone's mouth piece, lest our father hear him panting.

"Uh-huh," Oliver said, removing his palm from the receiver again and again to be heard and quickly putting it back as soon as he'd spoken. "Yeah, James is here. But, um, he's kind of busy."

I let out a low giggle, but kept on sucking, determined to drive him mad.

"He's just busy, Dad. He's, uh… doing a little job for me."

I snorted and had to take my mouth off him and clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Oliver had to press his lips together to keep from laughing as well.

"He'll call you back, alright? No, Dad, I gotta go. Yeah. Okay. Bye." He hung up as quickly as he could and burst into fits of laughter. "That man has impeccable timing."

"It's like he _knows_ ," I said as I began fisting his cock. I arched an eyebrow at him. "Doing a job, huh?"

"Well, you are."

"Uh-huh."

"What did he want to talk to you about anyway?"

"Oh." I frowned as I remembered. "Probably calling to help plan my big escape. Remember?"

"Oh, that. Still planning that, are you?"

I grinned. "Does it look like I am?" And in one smooth movement, I opened up and took him into my mouth again. He sighed with pleasure.

"By the way, Gareth wants to know when he'll be seeing you."

I raised my head again, still working him with my fist. "I dunno. When's he free again?"

Oliver put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. "Dunno. Next weekend maybe."

"Well, I'll give him a call at some point." I was about to put him back in my mouth when something occurred to me. I continued to stroke him, but my hand slowed down a bit. "Ollie?"

"Hm?"

"What did you and Gareth do today?"

"I told you, we had drinks."

"For five hours?"

He opened his eyes and looked down at me. I stared at him sombrely. "Well, no. We went to his place afterward."

My hand stopped altogether.

"What's wrong?"

I took my hand off of him and sat up and stared across the room. I remembered Gareth. We had begun chatting online with him for one reason and one reason only.

"You slept with him," I said, still not looking at him. I felt the bed shake a bit. He'd sat up too.

"Yeah." I felt his hand on my back. "We talked about that, you knew I was going to see him today."

The conversation came rushing back. We had discussed it and I remembered myself saying that it would be okay for Oliver to be with Gareth without me… because I'd had my own plans: Kelly.

"Did you not…?" he began and trailed off, but I knew what he was going to ask. I turned back to face him.

"No, I didn't have sex with Kelly," I said quietly.

He cocked his head. "Why not?"

"I wanted to. We… we kissed. But I stopped it before anything else happened."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not the same person I was when you and I had that conversation about Gareth."

"Meaning what? We're not back to you waking up in an alternate reality again, are we?"

I didn't say anything. He lowered his face and brought a hand up to rub his forehead.

"James, please…"

"I'm sorry, I don't know how to explain it."

He looked at me again, his brow furrowed. "Is that what all this is about?"

"What?"

"You're suddenly uncomfortable with our current relationship, so you've concocted this ridiculous story about losing your memory."

"No, that's not what that is. I don't know what that is. What I do know is I want to be with you and–"

"–and you wanna be monogamous all of a sudden."

I blinked at him. "Is that the worst thing in the world?"

He sighed. "No, of course not."

"Well, you said it with this edge in your voice, like I was asking you to come to a Blues game with me or something."

"It's just a little out of left field, that's all."

"Is it something you think we can do?"

He lowered his gaze and didn't answer.

"The fact that you have to think about it is not encouraging."

"James," he sighed again, "this isn't what we agreed on in the beginning."

"This isn't the beginning. We're a real couple now, we have a life together now."

"But…" He laughed nervously, or perhaps out of disbelief, and ran his fingers through his hair. "We talked about this."

I crossed my arms. "And what did we say?"

He raised his eyebrows at me. "You don't remember?"

I didn't, actually. Not specifics, anyway. I knew we'd agreed on an open relationship, but I didn't remember what exactly was said. It felt to me as though it had been a long time since that conversation, maybe two years. "Humour me."

"Fine. I remember we said that we were still young and it just didn't seem realistic to be monogamous at that point. I assumed "at this point" meant our early twenties at least. And, um, we said that it was probably unrealistic to expect brothers to be monogamous with each other."

I felt my stomach drop. "Brothers. It makes a difference that we're brothers?"

"It did at the time."

I rubbed at the back of my neck. "Who said what?"

"What?"

"Which one of us said which things?"

"Uh, you said the thing about us being young, I believe."

"And you said the thing about us being brothers."

He took a breath, seemed to hesitate and then nodded.

"Why did you hesitate just now?" I asked.

"You know why."

"Humour me again."

He sighed again. "Because, James, you've always had these grand, romantic notions about things, about… us. Because we're twins or something. And I've just never thought it was very realistic."

I nodded. "Because we're twins."

"Well… yeah."

I hugged my torso with one arm while the other brought my hand up to my mouth and I nibbled on my thumbnail. "I've always felt that way," I said. It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. "And I settled for this type of relationship so I could be with you."

He was quiet. I thought about Kelly. Was this the case for him back in my old life? He'd seemed so confident about how things were and what he wanted.

"So, this isn't really out of left field then," I said. "You've always known that I felt this way."

"True. But it hasn't come up for a couple of years now. I thought…"

"That I was over it."

He nodded.

I sighed heavily, dropped my hand from my face and stared off at nothing. I must've been quiet for a long while, because Oliver finally said, "James? Talk to me."

"I think we should break up," I said. I said it almost automatically, without missing a beat. I didn't move. I didn't blink. I didn't look at him. The words just came.

"Seriously?"

"This isn't what I want. I thought I could do this, but apparently I can't."

"Jamie," he murmured, scooting closer and touching my arm. "It's been a strange day, yeah? Maybe you just need–"

"I need to get dressed," I said. I pulled away and stood and went to find the clothes I'd been wearing that afternoon. "Just leave all that stuff there, I'll clean it up." I found my clothes on the floor of our closet and proceeded to get dressed in there, my back to the door. For the first time since I'd woken up that morning, things felt unreal, dream-like. My head felt clouded, like every emotion I had had been stuffed up inside it.

And I thought of Kelly. I wanted to call him, to hear that smile in his voice, a smile I knew for sure was only for me. He wanted what I wanted, didn't he? The conversation we'd had that afternoon had certainly made it sound like he wanted a monogamous relationship. But if that was true, what of the Kelly in my former life? Had he been lying about how happy he was?

I heard Oliver moving around behind me. When I was dressed, I stepped back into the room. Oliver was getting dressed too. He didn't look at me. I moved around him and began to clear things off the bed. "I'll sleep out on the sofa tonight," I said.

He finally looked at me. "You can't even sleep in the same room with me?"

"It's the same bed that's the problem, actually." With my hands and arms full of takeaway rubbish, the box of cake and the half-empty wine bottle, I moved to the door, stopped there and looked around at him. He was standing by the bed, fully dressed now, watching me sadly. My shoulders slumped and my heart ached. "I'm sorry."

"Can't we talk about this some more?"

"What's to talk about? We want different things."

"Do we? Because just a few hours ago you weren't so sure this was what you wanted."

"That is _not_ what that was about."

"But you admitted that Kelly and Evan got to you."

"I was lying to shut you up!" I snapped. "And don't stand there and accuse me of not being sure this is what I want when you're the one who's so keen to run off and fuck anybody who pays you a little attention!" I was yelling. I hadn't meant to yell, but it felt damn good. I expected him to argue, to yell back, but he didn't. He sort of shrank away and seemed to have trouble looking me in the eye.

"Well, maybe I don't have to see other people," he said quietly.

I blinked at him, in shock. He wasn't arguing. He wasn't even angry. I was right. It was he who wasn't ready for a real relationship. "Maybe," I echoed.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "We could give it a try. Being monogamous."

"Well, don't sound so excited."

"James, come on," he sighed, his head lolling back for a moment. When our eyes met again, his furrowed brow was back. "I'm willing to do what I have to keep you."

I nodded. "Willing to do what you have to."

"Yes, what I _have_ to, not what I _want_ to. I'm sorry I can't say what you want to hear, but I want to be with you. Are we really going to argue semantics now?"

I shook my head. "No, we're not arguing anymore," I said calmly. "I'm gonna clean up and then… I dunno, go for a walk or something. Clear my head."

My eyes darted from his face to the bouquet of roses lying on the bed. He followed my gaze, twisted around to look at them. He then looked back at me.

"What should I do with those?" he asked.

I shrugged. "They're yours. I bought them for you. You can do what you want with them." At that I turned away and headed to the kitchen. It felt like I was tethered to him, like I was being pulled back, because all I wanted to do was turn around and run back to him, into his arms and tell him it was okay, that I could just handle whatever he wanted our relationship to be. But that felt awfully familiar to me, very déjà vu. I'd done that before, I realised.

I glanced at the phone on the wall as I entered the kitchen. I could've called Kelly right then. I could've gone to the house and we could've locked ourselves away in his bedroom and finally succumbed to what we both wanted. But the Kelly I was picturing wasn't exactly the one who'd been here earlier. He was a combination of the confident Kelly from the other reality and the more timid Kelly from this one. And his hair was its natural brown and when I cupped his face and looked into his eyes, he smiled shyly at me and his eyes crinkled up at the corners.

"He'd only be a substitute," I mumbled to myself. Former Reality-Kelly had wanted me to stay with him and Evan so badly. For the first time I began to question why.

"James, come on, I love you!" I heard Oliver call to me from the hallway. My tether seemed to tighten even more, but I didn't respond and I didn't stop to listen to see if he was following me. I went about throwing things out and putting things back in their places. I heard no noises at all from the rest of the flat. He wasn't coming after me.

I finished cleaning up and left.

 

* * *

I walked for maybe an hour. I finally found myself at a 24-hour coffee shop where I sat and drank tea and read old newspapers and stared out the window. I thought about calling someone, but my distress was messing with my memory; knowledge of my current reality was wavering and I was having trouble remembering who knew about Oliver and me and who didn't. I wasn't going to call my parents. They'd only say they told me so. I thought about calling Kelly. I longed to call Kelly, actually, but only until I remembered the Kelly in this reality wasn't the confident Kelly I'd originally met, but the unsure, lovesick one who'd taken my place. I scowled at my reflection in the coffee shop window more than once as I kept on remembering how pathetic I apparently was, not only in this reality, but in the old one as well.

And Oliver kept calling. I didn't answer, I didn't want to, but I didn't turn the phone off either. The vibration against my thigh comforted me a bit because it meant he was still trying. He hadn't given up. Maybe there was still hope.

It was just after 12am when the calls finally stopped. I waited. He'd call again, I told myself. I sipped cold tea and stared at the same sentence in a newspaper article I'd been trying to finish reading for the last half-hour. My phone didn't vibrate again. And now I wasn't sure if I wanted to go back home at all.

But I finally did. I took a cab and arrived shortly after 1am. The flat was dark except for the small dining area off the kitchen. The light there was on and something was sitting on the table that hadn't been there before. The roses I'd bought had been placed in a painted ceramic milk jug, the only real vase-like object we had, and it was sitting in the centre of the table with a note neatly folded by its side. I was afraid to read that note, but I was also too curious not to. I picked it up and read:

>   
> _James,_
> 
>  _I thought you were coming back to the room. If I'd known you'd leave so quickly, I would've come after you. I've been calling all evening. I left a few messages. I guess you're ignoring me. I just need you to know that I am willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. If that means changing our relationship, I'm ready to do that. I'm sorry if I seemed less than enthusiastic about it when we talked earlier. I was just caught off-guard. I love you so much, I…_

I stopped reading and put the note back down. I stared at the roses. I suddenly hated them. I wanted to rip all their stupid little heads off.

I wandered down the hall to the bedroom. I could just make out Oliver's face by moonlight. He was lying on his back, on his side of the bed, fast asleep. I entered the room and stood by the bed and just watched him. His mouth was hanging open. I wanted to touch his lips. I wanted to stroke his cheek. I wanted to crawl under the covers with him and cuddle up to him and feel him embrace me. I was so close to doing just that. I could end this if I really wanted to. I could just go back to him.

I began to back away. Standing there next to him was too dangerous.

I went to the kitchen and retrieved the partially-eaten chocolate cake from the fridge. I got a fork and a glass of milk and took them out to the living room, shutting off the dining room light on the way. I took off my jeans and ate in my underwear, by lamplight, barely tasting anything. I ate an embarrassing amount, trying to smother my feelings with food, I suppose. Anything to keep from crying. I would not cry.

I finally abandoned the cake, curled up on the sofa and shut my eyes. Maybe Ollie and I could talk in the morning. Maybe things could be salvaged. Maybe he really could change for me. Maybe I could change for him. Maybe a new day could change everything.

 

* * *

Or maybe not.

When I woke up, I didn't feel any different. I didn't even have that temporary morning-after cushion, that brief period when you're blissfully unaware of the events of the day before. No, as soon as I became conscious again I remembered everything. I felt like I hadn't even dreamed at all.

It took me a while to finally open my eyes. I nestled deeper beneath the blanket, hoping I'd fall back to sleep, but I only became more and more awake as time passed. So, I finally made the decision to open my eyes and face the day.

I frowned and sat up abruptly, the blanket slipping from my shoulders. I wasn't in the living room of the flat anymore. I was in the living room of the _house_. Oliver's and my house. I was wearing the same clothes I'd worn to the St Clairs' the night before. The empty ice cream carton was still sitting on the floor by the sofa.

I sat there for a while, just looking around. I was definitely awake. I thought back to yesterday – or rather to the dream I'd just woken up from. That had felt real too. Time there had passed in a normal fashion. And it wasn't fading from my memory as I sat there. The entire thing was as vivid as a movie playing in my head. I ran my fingers through my hair. It was short again. I touched the back of my neck. It felt terribly naked.

I stood and headed for the stairs. I think the blanket fell to the floor, but I didn't stop to check. I got to the second floor and I heard a loud snore. I smiled and headed on over to Oliver's room. His door was open just a sliver. I pushed it open more and peered inside. He was lying on his back, fast asleep. The events of my bizarre day had most certainly been a dream, but one thing still lingered; I still wanted to go to him, touch him, cuddle up to him. I stayed put, though. I wasn't even sure if stepping beyond the threshold and into his room while he slept was okay now, given the conversation we'd had before bed. A wall had shot up between us last night.

I shut the door and turned away. I washed up a bit, brushed my teeth, changed my clothes, forced my hair to behave and left the house. I knew where I was going. I just hoped that at least one of them was home. It occurred to me to call ahead only when I was in the car and halfway there already.

Kelly answered the door and grinned hugely at me. His hair was tousled, his fringe was in his once again bright and confident eyes and he was wearing his dressing gown and, I'm pretty sure, nothing else.

"Well, this is unexpected," he said. "Come in. I was actually going to call you later today, see what you were up to."

I stepped inside and looked around. The dining table was devoid of ceramic jug and roses, but I hadn't really expected them to be there. "You were?" I asked.

"Yeah. I suppose that might've seemed a bit desperate." He chuckled and came around to smile at me. "I guess I just couldn't wait to see you again."

I smiled shyly, lowered my face and shuffled my feet.

"Come sit."

"Actually, I probably won't need to stay that long. I just had to ask you something. And it might be kind of personal. That's why I didn't want to ask over the phone."

He stopped smiling, looked more curious, and cocked his head. "Okay."

"Um…" I began, but I trail off as I caught a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye. The short hallway was visible from where I stood, and I could see a single white rose lying on the floor by the bedroom.

My mind jumped back to my dream; there I was, being pressed against the wall, Oliver's possessive weight on me, the rose slipping from my fingers, my robe falling away.

"Um…" I tried to speak again while at the same time trying to wrap my head around what was happening. What _was_ happening?

Kelly followed my gaze and then looked back at me with a smile. "We had kind of a romantic night after the two of you left yesterday."

I looked at him. "Did you buy those for him? I mean, er, _if_ it was a bouquet, I have no idea."

"Matter of fact, I did. And yes, it was a bouquet. The rest are in the bedroom."

"When? When did you buy them?"

"Yesterday afternoon while I was waiting for him to come home." He cocked his head. "This can't be what you came over here to ask me."

"No, it's not." I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "I'm sorry, it's been a strange night and… it's turning out to be an even stranger morning."

"Yeah?" he said softly, reaching out to grip and massage my shoulder. "Sure you won't come and sit?"

I glanced over at the living room and finally nodded. I let him guide me over and we sat together on the red loveseat. He leaned back casually, body turned toward me, one arm resting along the backrest, and he crossed his legs, careful to keep his robe closed, though much of his legs were still visible for a moment. I made a point not to stare. That was _not_ what I'd come here for. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees.

"This is none of my business, really," I began. "So, if I'm asking too much, feel free to tell me to shut up, but I'm curious… Did Evan see someone else yesterday?" I looked up at his face to gauge his reaction. He remained cool as ice, but perfectly warm and casual at the same time. He nodded.

"Yeah, he did." He frowned a bit. "How did you know? Did he call you?"

"No. No, no. Um, I just… guessed." I suddenly realised that, if Kelly was secretly the jealous type, I might end up causing some problems in his relationship with this line of questioning. "'Cause, you know, you have this open relationship and I guess I'm a bit curious as to how that whole thing works," I added quickly.

"Yeah, Evan met up with someone yesterday, someone we started talking to online, and we'd discussed it ahead of time, so I knew about it."

Someone they'd met online. My mind reeled a bit. "And you're okay with it?"

He smiled. "Yeah. In fact, if the guy is available today, Evan might be seeing him again. I'm supposed to join him, but I really wanted to have you come over later. I mean, if you wanted to."

I smiled nervously. "Oh. Well… perhaps. Um, I guess it all depends, really."

"On what? Oliver?"

"Yes."

"Ah. Well, you can bring him if you like, but…" He slid closer and boldly leaned in, bringing his mouth to my ear and breathing into it, "I hope you're not nervous about being with me on your own. I realise you're probably a bit inexperienced when it comes to guys. I'm very patient. I'd never rush you."

I squirmed a bit. My body was reacting to his closeness and his words and his hot breath on my neck and I wanted to kiss him, but I didn't. I kept my face lowered.

"It's not that," I said. "It's not about whether he'll come with me or not. It's… it's about him and me."

"Oh." I saw him nod in my periphery and he leaned back again. "I see. You want to ask him if he'll be with you."

"Yeah. Which is mad because he made himself pretty clear last night."

"It's not mad. It's your heart."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and remembered how devastating it had been to discover the Oliver in my ultimate fantasy hadn't wanted the same thing I had. It seemed like such a slap in the face to be shown exactly what I'd been wanting and then have it turn out so completely wrong. And how could I blame him for wanting to see other people on the side? How could I blame him for not wanting to give that up? People aren't supposed to fall in love with their siblings after all.

I reminded myself that none of that had actually happened, that I'd woken up that morning on my own sofa, wrapped in Oliver's red, fleece blanket. It had all been a dream, though somehow it had coincided with incidents in the St. Clairs' lives. The roses? The friend from the internet? Had they told us about that stuff? I didn't think so. It was possible that I'd seen the roses when they'd showed me around last night, but that didn't explain the single rose lying on the floor in the hall. God, it was all completely insane and I was getting a headache just thinking about it.

"Let me ask you something," I finally said. "If Evan was so against all this to begin with, how did he eventually come around? What did you say? I'm not looking to change Oliver's mind or anything, that's not what I want. I'm just curious."

I looked back at him. He was looking toward the ceiling as though remembering. "Well, to be honest, we had to take a break from one another for a while. We still lived at home at the time and we'd been talking about moving out and getting a two-bedroom together, but it all just came to a head for me. I was desperately in love with him. And I knew that if I couldn't be with him, at least be his… I dunno, regular fuck buddy on the side or whatever, I knew I wouldn't be able to live with him." His eyes met mine. Some of the heaviness I'd seen in them in my dream had seeped into them now.

"You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

"No, it's alright. It's probably good that you hear it. I went to his room one night and I told him what my bottom line was. I laid it out. And I knew he didn't want to hear it, but he had to. I don't blame him for my feelings, but he, knowing how I felt, would still come to me on occasion to mess around, so he certainly wasn't helping matters."

"What did you say?"

Kelly sighed. "I told him that if we couldn't be together in some real way, then we'd have to live apart when we moved out. I couldn't continue to live with him while feeling the way I was feeling. We already had our separate lives and friends. I figured we'd eventually grow apart, see each other only for family functions, and that would be the end of that."

"But he's your twin. You were willing to just cut him out of your life?"

Kelly gave me a sad smile. "That's what he said. And yeah, I thought about that too and I know it sounds harsh, but… James, my heart was broken."

That made me stop and think. Was my heart broken? I couldn't tell.

"So, what happened?"

"Well, as I said, I laid it all out for him. I told him what I wanted. He didn't say anything for a while, and when he finally did speak, he basically said that what I wanted wasn't an option. I told him we couldn't mess around anymore and he agreed. And we went our separate ways. We lived in the same house, but we barely spoke. That went on for about three months. Maybe four. It was hard. It hurt like hell, the awkwardness that settled between us. I'd stay out of the house as much as possible, but when I'd see him… I just ached inside." He looked at me. "Sex can pretty much decimate any relationship."

I couldn't imagine that, Oliver and I not speaking because we occasionally fooled around. I couldn't imagine us not speaking for any reason at all.

"Anyway, near the end, I was thinking of caving, of going to him and telling him I was sorry for giving him an ultimatum and ruining our relationship. I was going to tell him I was okay with not being with him, even though I really wasn't. I'd suck it up and deal with it because he's my twin. I couldn't just shut him out for good. But then…" A soft smile touched Kelly's lips. "But then, before I could go to him, he came to me. He was as fed up as I was. And he told me, he said, 'Okay. Let's do it.'" He suddenly looked like a contented cat, relaxed, eyes a bit sleepy-looking. "But make no mistake, James, I took a huge gamble giving him that ultimatum. Things could've turned out a lot worse."

I nodded. "Was it always an open relationship?"

"No. We tried the monogamous thing in the beginning. We quickly realised it wasn't going to work."

"Wasn't going to work for both of you or wasn't going to work for him?"

He narrowed his eyes a bit, just the tiniest bit, at me. For a moment, I thought his tone was about to change, that he was about to shut down and even ask me to leave, but the minute change in his expression lasted barely a second. He smiled warmly at me again. "Both of us."

I didn't believe him. But I didn't say so. "So, um, from what you've gathered, do you think Oliver would respond negatively to an ultimatum?"

"Well, I think most people would. But do I think you can get through it?" He sighed as he considered his answer. "I don't know, to be honest. I don't know you guys very well yet. But I know you're really close. Closer than most would consider appropriate probably," he said with a grin. I smiled sheepishly.

"And how do you know that?"

"I'm not blind, James, I could see how close you were. The easy way you each drift into each others' personal space, for example. You don't even notice you're doing it. The way you rely on each other in conversation. The way he looks at you."

I frowned. "How does he look at me?"

"Oh, you know."

"No, I don't."

He cocked his head. "You never noticed? Well, I suppose that makes sense. I didn't notice the way Evan looks at me until after we became a couple. Though, that's probably because he was more discreet about it before. When you're talking, he sort of looks at you like… like you're the only person in the room."

I stared at him for a moment, thinking he must not be serious. But he stared serenely back and finally gave me a "yes, it's true" sort of nod. I looked away and laughed nervously.

"And I bet he really likes to fuck you."

My stomach did a rather pleasant little flip and I nervously laughed even more. "We don't fuck."

"Well, I should say that when I say 'fuck', I'm not talking about intercourse. There are lots of ways to make love."

I blushed profusely and shook my head when he said "make love". I wanted to protest and say that I hardly considered what Oliver and I did together on occasion to be lovemaking, but I knew he'd only argue with me in that maddeningly all-knowing way of his.

Then my phone vibrated. I was reminded strongly of last night in the coffee shop in my dream. I'd passed that coffee shop on my way here, so I'd probably seen it last night when Oliver and I had driven here and then forgotten about it. I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

"It's Oliver," I said.

"Go ahead, take it." Kelly stood and began to wander away.

"No, it's okay. He'll just leave a message."

He glanced back at me and smiled. "Take it. I have to pee anyway."

I watched him go and answered my phone. Oliver's slightly panicked voice answered me.

"James!... Hi." He cleared his throat. "Where are you?"

I grinned from ear to ear. I couldn't help it. "I'm at the St. Clairs'."

A pause, and then, "Oh?"

"Yeah, I, um, just dropped by to talk."

"Just talk?"

"Yes, just talk."

"About what?"

"This and that. I'll tell you when I get home."

"When are you coming home?"

"Uh, soonish. Were you worried about me?"

"Well, I came downstairs and you weren't there and my blanket was on the floor and… I know I overreacted. I dunno why I did that, actually."

"Well, what did you think happened to me?"

"Nothing. It's not important."

"You're cute when you worry."

"Oh, shut up."

I smiled like an idiot again. "Sorry I left the blanket on the floor. I didn't even realise that I'd…" I trailed off, stopped smiling and frowned, suddenly realising that I hadn't fallen asleep with a blanket. Certainly not Oliver's blanket. I would've gotten one of my own from my room if I'd wanted one. I smiled again.

"Hello?" said Oliver.

"I'm here," I said softly. "Sorry. Um, right, I'm sorry about the blanket."

"It's okay."

"And Ollie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"What for?"

"For… I dunno. Worrying about me, I guess."

"Well, of course I worry about you, Dopey. When did you say you were coming home?"

"Right now. I'll see you in thirty, maybe forty, minutes."

Kelly strolled back into the living room just as I hung up. The way he was looking at me, with that soft, barely-there smile, I got the distinct impression he'd been listening to my conversation.

I stood and walked out of the living room, around the sofa and toward the door. "I should go. The wife's been wondering where I am."

He nodded and approached me. "Tell him I said 'hi'. Oh, um…" He stepped close and murmured, "Should I give you a call later?"

I swallowed hard. He smelled of sex and roses. "Um… yes. I mean, I'll want to tell you how things go either way, so…"

He nodded again, and then he leaned in and laid a soft kiss just to the right of my mouth. My heart thudded loudly. I kind of hated that he could affect me like that. "Good luck, James," he whispered.

"Thank you," I breathed, exhaling the words like a sigh of relief. Relief that his lips were no longer on my face, searing my skin and playing havoc with my internal organs, I suppose.

I got out of there before I did something stupid, like sleep with him. I felt almost guilty for coming down so hard on the Oliver in my dream. It's not like I didn't understand the desire to be with other people. I'm twenty-two and _male_ , of course I understand it. But I'm just a stupid, hopeless romantic, I guess.

The kettle was whistling when I finally walked in the front door. The noise faded out with a sad little waver a moment before Oliver stepped out of the kitchen and stood there watching me take my shoes off. He was still in his pyjamas, an old t-shirt and striped pants, and his short, ginger hair was sticking up all over.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey."

He hugged his torso. "I was just making tea. Want some?"

"Sure. Thanks." I followed him into the kitchen. "Want some help?"

"No, I'm okay. So, how are Kelly and Evan?"

I sat at the table. "Fine, I guess. Evan was still asleep, so I talked to Kell."

"Oh." He was quiet for a while as he prepared two cups of tea. I watched him add several teaspoons of sugar to one of the cups and I knew that one was mine. "You left the empty ice cream carton in the living room and the lid lying on the counter in here," he said.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Hmph. It's fine, I threw them out. Do you want some toast or something?"

"Uh… yeah, actually. No, I'll do it." I stood and went to the fridge for bread, stopping him from going.

"Could you pass me the milk while you're in there?"

I watched his face while I handed the carton to him. He didn't look at me as he took it.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." I kept casting little glances at him as I went about getting bread in the toaster. With that task finally finished, I turned, leaned back against the counter top and watched him stir tea. "Is there something you want to talk about?" I finally asked.

"No. I mean, I dunno." He stopped stirring, put the spoon in the sink and looked up at me. "Is there something _you_ want to talk about?"

"Actually, yes. And you're probably not going to like it."

He looked down at the cups again. He finally picked them up and brought them to the table. "Well, let's sit then."

I went and took my seat, thanked him for the tea and blew lightly on the surface of mine while I chose my words. "I went to talk to Kelly this morning because I had some questions."

"About their relationship."

"Yes."

He lowered his gaze and took a deep breath. "Okay."

"I know you don't wanna hear it. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but, to be perfectly honest, you crawl into bed with me at least as often as I crawl into bed with you, so I'm not sure you have the right to ask me to push this under the rug."

He fidgeted and said nothing.

"Oliver…" I wished he would look at me. I wished I could say what I was about to say and have him actually want to hear it. I took a breath. "Oliver, I'm in love with you."

His eyes darted. His grip on the handle of his cup tightened and loosened over and over. And he said nothing.

"I wish I didn't feel this way. I would give anything not to feel this way, but I do and… I'm not sure I can continue to live with you if we can't be together."

That made him look at me. The look on his face was a mixture of shock and anger. "What?"

"I know it sounds a little drastic and I'd never cut you out of my life completely, but…" My hand went automatically up to the left side of my chest and laid flat there. "My heart… I'm sorry, but… my heart…"

The anger dissolved from his face and was slowly replaced by what could only be described as hurt. "You'd move out?" he asked in almost a whisper.

I lowered my hand and my eyes. "I'd have to."

"Did he tell you to say that?"

"No. He told me to be honest about what I needed."

I heard him sigh. "What is it that you need?"

I sipped my tea, took a fortifying breath and said, "I'd like for us to be a couple."

"A couple."

"Yes."

"Like… dating, sleeping in the same bed, not seeing anyone else?"

I hesitated. "Well… I would prefer that, yes," I finally said, daring to look him dead in the eye as I said it, to face whatever his reaction might be. He only blinked at me. "But we can discuss that later if you want. I know that we're young and asking you to be monogamous isn't really fair. I mean, I'm your brother. Maybe it's not realistic to be in a monogamous relationship with your brother." I smiled despite the tension. "I can't even believe I'm saying that."

"You're telling me."

I looked up at him. I expected to find him looking sad or frightened or blank. And he did look a bit frightened. But there was a hint of a smile on his face too.

"This is mad, isn't it?" I said.

"Bloody insane. But…" He paused and bit his lip.

"But what?"

He shifted a bit in his seat. "When I came down and saw that you were gone, I was really worried. You were so stoned when you went to sleep and I wasn't sure when you'd start to feel normal again or when you'd left. I was gonna fucking kill you if you'd gotten behind the wheel while you were still that high."

I smiled softly at him. "I'm sorry. When I left it was mid-morning. I was fine, I swear."

He nodded. "Good. But then my next thought was that you'd gone to the St. Clairs'."

"Well, I did…" I stopped and cocked my head at him. "And that bothered you?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed as though he was very unhappy with himself about something.

"Why would that bother you?"

He frowned at me. "Oh, catch up, James, will you?"

"Er… you thought… I was… what, having sex with them?"

"Yes," he said through clenched teeth.

"But why would that bother…" I stopped again and a smile slowly spread across my face and I repeated, "That bothered you."

He pointed at me and said firmly, "Do _not_ get all cocky. If you do, this conversation is over and I might just let you move out."

I wiped the smile off my face. "Sorry. I wasn't being cocky. I was touched, actually."

He lowered his finger.

"You don't want me to be with them."

He shook his head.

"Why didn't you say so?"

He shrugged. "I didn't have a reason to until now. I can't stop you sleeping with other people."

I couldn't keep the smile off my face then. I slid my chair closer, right up next to his, and looked into his eyes. "Yes, you can."

A tiny bit of sadness returned to his eyes. "We can't be in a monogamous relationship with each other. It's crazy."

I reached for his hand. "But do you want to?"

He gulped. "Maybe. I'm not sure."

"But it's on the table, yeah? You've thought about it."

He nodded.

"Then I think we need to try."

He opened his mouth as though trying to speak, but he closed it again.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I can't believe we're having this conversation." He laughed nervously. I smiled.

"Yeah. You were so adamant last night about how you felt."

"Well…" He shrugged. "That was… I wasn't really… I was just…"

"Scared?"

He sighed and stared into my eyes. "It's a little disconcerting, coming face-to-face with yourself. You might not see what you wanted or expected to."

"Kelly and Evan freaked you out."

He nodded. "Especially Evan. I thought he was so much like me, and then he throws me this curve ball. I guess I was just hoping he was only like me in the ways I approve of."

That made me wonder; in two years, would I be stuck in an open relationship I wasn't comfortable with? But it didn't sound like that was what he'd want. "They're not really that similar to us, you know."

"You don't think so?"

"No. They want a different kind of relationship than what we want, don't they?"

I had no idea what Oliver was going to say, and if he did want to see other people, well… I suppose I'd just have to deal with it. But to my relief, Oliver nodded.

"Yeah. They do."

I smiled and felt all my muscles relax. "I thought I wanted what they have. They seem to have the best of everything."

"They're probably not as happy as they seem. Nobody is."

I suspected he was right. Maybe my dream hadn't shown me what he and I would be like together, but what Kelly and Evan actually were. Maybe I had less to worry about than I thought I did.

"Is it so bad, the way we feel?" I asked. "I mean, maybe it's natural for twins."

He shook his head. "I don't know, maybe." He glanced off to the side, nodded at something behind me and said, "Your tea's getting cold."

"So's yours. We can microwave them later." I wasn't in the mood for tea anymore. My mind was as far away from tea as it could get.

"So, um…" He cleared his throat, fidgeted and gripped my hand a bit tighter. "How do we, um… do this?"

"Do what?"

"How do we start… this… whatever you wanna call it?"

I grinned. "Relationship?"

"Yeah, that."

He looked so young in that moment, in his pyjamas with his messy morning hair. He looked at me expectantly from underneath his long lashes. He looked so uncertain. He was looking for guidance.

"I have at least one idea," I said. I pushed my chair back and stood, still clutching his hand. He stood too and let me lead him from the kitchen. I heard the toaster pop up as we departed and didn't look back.

"Your place or mine?" I asked as we mounted the stairs. He laughed.

"Either is fine."

I took him to my room. I turned to face him as I pulled him inside. We stopped by the unmade bed and I stepped closer to him.

He squinted at the window. "Wanna close the curtains?"

"No. It's okay, no one can see in. We'll just keep our arses below the window."

He smiled and looked at me again. "But James, we–"

I silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips and shook my head. "No. I want us to see this, to see… us. For real. In daylight."

He glanced nervously at the window. "This could be weird, you know."

"We'll just have to risk it. I need to know for sure if we're ready, if we're there."

"You mean if _I'm_ there."

"Well…" I shrugged. "Might turn out that I have doubts."

He shook his head. "You don't. You're sure, I can tell." He glanced down at the bed. "This is a test, isn't it?"

"Shhh," I said, shaking my head and stepping even closer. I wasn't shaking my head 'no'; I was just trying to quiet him. Maybe he took it as a 'no' anyway. But I couldn't really say 'no' to his question. I guess it was a test.

I reached up and cupped his face. He licked his lips, took a calming breath, exhaled through his nose and blinked nervously at me until he finally lowered his gaze. One of my hands moved down to his neck and I could feel his heart pounding through the skin. I gently tilted his face up, closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his.

We'd never kissed on the mouth, certainly not since childhood. I expected him to feel tense against my mouth, and he did for a moment. But then he inhaled deeply and when he exhaled, not only did his entire body relax, but he let out a little moan. My cock, which was already waking up, twitched in response. I felt his fingertips gingerly touch my waist, and all I wanted to do was press up against him, wrap my arm around his neck and plunge my tongue deep inside him, but I held back. I didn't want to frighten him.

I pulled back to check on him. "Was that terrible?"

He smiled shyly, eyes downcast. "No, it wasn't terrible."

I leaned in and nuzzled at his face. "Can I undress you?"

He leaned into my nuzzling and I felt his fingers pulling lightly at my shirt. "Yes," he whispered.

I began kissing his face, pressing my mouth all over his cheek and along his jaw line, while I moved my hands down to his waistband and began pushing it down. I pulled the elastic waist outward to get it past his cock, which was now fully erect and bumping against me, and I kissed my way back to his mouth as I finally fully exposed him.

I didn't hold back this time. I licked deep into his mouth and made a few little moaning noises myself. And he didn't shy away, didn't tense up and turn his face. He kissed right back and I could hear him breathing harder through his nose. His hands found their way up underneath my shirt, caressed up and down my sides and back, and one of my hands went straight to his prick and wrapped around that warm, thick length.

He broke the kiss and looked at me, his eyes all sleepy and tinged with heat. For a moment, it looked as though the shyness was going to return, but it was a mere second of hesitation. A moment later, he was pulling his t-shirt off on his own. And to my surprise, as soon as he'd discarded it, his hands went to my jeans and popped the button out of its hole.

I grinned at him and quickly removed my shirt. I tossed it across the room and my jeans and underwear and his pyjamas got kicked away. Finally we were standing there, naked and fully aroused, before each other and I thought he was going to panic and change his mind. He seemed to be mentally checking his own readiness as his eyes travelled up and down my body.

I stepped close again and felt my dick bump against his. Mine gave a little jerk and then so did his barely a second later. I smiled.

"Feel that?" I whispered. He smiled too and nodded. I leaned in for more kisses and his body yielded, pressed right into me, his arms going around my neck.

I was going to pull him back to the bed, but I got a better idea and guided him over to the chest of drawers instead.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Shh. Turn around." I turned him so his back was to me and we were both facing the mirror.

"No," he said with a shy smile, lowering his face. "James, no, I can't watch us."

"Shh, shh, shh. Look at that." My eyes and hands went down his long, lean body, my palms gliding over his hips and caressing across his little belly pudge. I pressed myself against him, my prick pressed right to his arse, and I slowly rubbed against him. His cock twitched intermittently. "See? Your body knows me."

He finally looked up, eyes focusing on his crotch and my hands, which were still petting around that area. I felt him begin to relax again and then his hips began to rock slowly in time with mine.

"Hang on," I said. I stopped and pulled back and lubricated myself and the crack of his arse with as much spit as I could produce. I grinned up at his reflection. "A little help?" I said as I offered him my hand. He smiled back, gripped my wrist and licked slowly up the length of my fingers, thoroughly wetting them. "Thank you," I murmured in his ear, and I finished lubricating us and nestled my cock between his cheeks again.

We resumed rubbing and I took hold of his prick and began stroking him. I hooked my other arm around him, pressed my hand to his chest, and held him back against me. And we watched ourselves, watched my hand jerk him off, watched our hips rocking together, watched each others' lust-slackened faces, watched ourselves for the very first time as we did this together.

He widened his stance a bit and linked his fingers with mine on his chest while his other hand came around to rest on my hip. He gripped my hand so tight, his knuckles went white, and as we both began to pant and lose control, he shut his eyes and let his head fall back.

"Look at me," I growled in his ear. "Look into my eyes."

He let out a little whimper, but he did look back down at the mirror for me. Our eyes locked and I didn't hide anything from him. I let him see exactly how aroused I was, how intense, how out of control, how high on his scent I was. I turned my face enough so that I could smell and kiss and lick him, I licked right up his neck and flicked at his earlobe with the tip of my tongue, all while looking right into his eyes. And he didn't look away or even flinch. His eyes filled with even more lust and remained focused on mine.

And suddenly he turned his face to me and looked directly into my eyes. That sent me hurtling even faster toward climax and I moaned and grunted hard as I humped against him. He matched my noises, matched their frequency and intensity as our breath flowed into each other's mouths. He nipped and licked helplessly at my lips and whispered, "I'm coming."

"I know. I can feel it." I swear I could, that I could feel not only my own climax rushing up over me, but his as well. It was that intense. His eyes rolled up in his head for a moment before he shut his eyes and his noises became urgent. I let him keep his eyes closed this time. I could barely even formulate the words to tell him to open them as I began to come too.

So I watched his reflection again. I'd never seen him like this, not in the clear light of day, his skin all flushed, his neck arched, his face relaxed. He clenched his teeth and his body writhed and it was like he was on display just for me, showing me every bit of his desire.

I took my hand out from under his, cupped the back of his head with it instead and held him steady while I brought our lips together.

We were a mess. We stumbled and he had to tear his mouth from mine, lean forward and reach out to brace himself on the dresser to keep from falling. I went forward with him, hooked my arm over his shoulder, across his chest, and held onto him as I rested lightly against his back. I rested my face against the back of his neck as we shuddered away the last of our orgasms. His cock pulsed more and more weakly in my hand until it finally stopped and began to go soft. I let it go and laid my sticky hand on his belly.

I pressed my ear to his neck and listened to his body as it breathed in time with mine. And I waited.

When he'd caught his breath a bit, he raised his head. I raised mine too. He looked up at himself in the mirror. I straightened up and watched him. His face was blank as he examined it. I wondered if I should move away, but I waited to see what he'd do.

"Is this the face of a man who has sex with his brother?" he asked quietly, still staring at himself. The question sounded awfully familiar.

I stroked his back. "We didn't do anything we haven't done before."

He finally stood up straight and laid his hand on the one on his belly. We stood there together for a long while, my front to his back, naked with the late morning sun pouring in, shedding all kinds of unforgiving light on what we'd once only brought out in the dark. Finally, he looked into my eyes and said, "But you'll want to have actual sex at some point."

He was still blank, I still couldn't read him. I lowered my eyes. "I had thought about it, yeah."

He shifted suddenly, turned slowly in my arms to face me and put his arms around me. "We'll need to buy… stuff."

I blinked up at him as I tried to figure out what he meant. "Oh, you mean, um, lube." I couldn't help but smile. And neither could he.

"Yeah, that." He looked down and I was free to gaze at his sweet, shy smile.

"How are you feeling after we just made an undignified mess of ourselves in front of a mirror?"

He chuckled and met my eyes again. "I feel alright, I think."

I reached up and stroked his cheek. "Do you want to do this with me?" I whispered.

He hesitated, his smile fading away, and my stomach fluttered with nerves. He finally said, "Yes. I think I do."

I grinned. "Really?"

He laughed. "Yes. What, do you want it in writing or something?"

"Maybe. May I kiss you?"

In answer to my question, he focused on my mouth, tilted his head and leaned in and kissed me softly. I guided him to the bed where we fell down together in a tangle of limbs, diagonally across the mattress.

"So, are you, like, my boyfriend now?" he asked.

"I suppose I am."

"That's way too weird."

"Yeah? What if I was your cock whore?" I asked with a grin.

His eyebrows went up. "I'm sorry, what?"

I giggled and snuggled into him. "What if, instead of your boyfriend, I was your filthy little cock whore?"

"Which means what, exactly?"

"It means," I murmured, "that I'm a whore for your cock, that I'll do anything for it."

He considered this with a big grin on his face. "That's even weirder."

I nuzzled at his face. "We'll work on that."

We spent the rest of the morning in bed exploring and testing, and I finally got Oliver to concede that I was indeed a good little whore for his cock when I stuffed my face with it and sucked him in a blatant, hungry way that he'd never seen from me before. I could almost feel my longer, brown fringe falling sensuously over my left eye as I did that, as I gazed lustily up at him with my mouth all full of him. I made a mental note to grow my hair out as soon as it was feasible.

Just after noon, he fell asleep in my arms, his head on my chest. I pulled the covers up over us and thought about everything we'd done together that morning. I got that giddy feeling again, the freedom of it all making me feel a bit silly. I couldn't stop smiling at the ceiling.

I jumped a bit when my phone began vibrating across the wooden surface of the side table. I carefully reached over and grabbed it, careful not to shake Oliver too much. It was our father. He was no doubt calling to give us his and Mum's ETA. I groaned and set the phone back down and let it go to voicemail.

When my phone vibrated again barely five minutes later, I definitely wasn't smiling anymore. But this time it was Kelly calling.

"Hey," I said into the receiver in a hushed voice. "What's up?"

"Nothing, just calling to see how things are. Did you…?"

"I did." My big, stupid grin returned.

"And?"

I gripped Oliver more tightly against myself. I took a deep breath and let it out in a soft, relieved sigh and I said, "I think we're there."

END


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